


White Heather for Protection

by Lunarlooroo



Series: White Heather [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fem!Harry is older sister of BWL, Female Harry Potter, Harry is born two years early, M/M, Multi, Slow Romance, Slytherin Harry, Taking liberties with magical theory, Wandless Magic, brief scenes of attempted assault, very slow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-15 15:28:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 85
Words: 213,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7228006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarlooroo/pseuds/Lunarlooroo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When James and Lily Potter are murdered, Heather Potter vows to protect her younger brother in their place. She will employ every bit of her power and cunning to give him the best life possible. </p><p>But ensuring the safety of the Boy-Who-Lived is no mean feat when so many are out for his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Destiny Turns

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and it's characters. They belong to JKR. 
> 
> Hi there! This is my first fanfic, and it's going to be a rather long one. A bit ambitious, but...meh. It's unbetaed, so I appreciate any constructive criticism. Hope you enjoy!

Soft humming filled the room. The air smelled of baby oils and lavender. Light from the setting sun bathed the nursery walls in a golden glow. A redheaded woman was carrying a squalling infant in her arms while her little girl watched on. 

"Darling, would you mind helping Mama get the baby's bottle? It's time for his feed." Lily Potter rocked the bright-eyed infant soothingly.

"I'll prepare the bottle!" enthused a toddler with tousled raven locks and shining green eyes, as she scurried to the kitchen counter. She'd seen her Mama make up a bottle before and she was certain she could get it right. After all, she was already three; all grown-up and ready to help with the baby. 

"Be careful with the hot water, dear," Lily reminded her daughter worriedly. Despite all the baby-proofing charms she and James had implemented, the child unerringly found herself in all sorts of trouble.

'Just like her father,' Lily thought, exasperated. 

The girl trotted back into the room, holding the bottle of milk carefully in both hands. There was an air of expectation as she passed the milk to her mother. She tensed, awaiting the verdict. When Lily merely hummed nonchalantly, the girl drooped like a wilting flower. 

Lily chuckled at her daughter's antics and gave her judgment. "Well done! A perfect bottle." The girl perked up at the compliment, having worried that she'd gotten it all wrong. 

"Would you like to feed your brother the milk you prepared?" The girl absolutely beamed at the offer and eagerly held her arms out. Lily carefully arranged the precious bundle in the short limbs and handed her daughter the bottle. The girl briefly buried her face in downy copper hair, luxuriating in the sweet baby scent of innocence and sunlight. 

"Hey there lovely. Here's your bottle," she cooed softly at her baby brother as she brought the nipple to his lips. The infant suckled greedily while fisting some of her hair in his pudgy hand. Eventually, when the bottle ran dry, she picked up a clean flannel to throw over her shoulder. She looked to her mother for assurance, then positioned the baby's head over her shoulder. Like she'd seen her Mama do, she patted his back tentatively. Finally, a burp erupted and she wrinkled her nose at the smell of sour milk.

"The baby needs a change too, Mama," the girl said as she carefully handed her brother over. She then hastily threw the soiled flannel into the hamper.

"Not going to help me with this one?" Lily teased as she deftly prepared a change of nappies at the table.

The girl's face scrunched up adorably as she shook her head 'no'. Much as she adored her brother, she wasn't quite ready to confront his other end. She observed keenly while her Mama tackled the horrors of dirty diapers. When that was done, she offered to tuck the baby in. 

"Alright, but then it's off to bed with you. The Samhain activities must have worn you out." The girl cheered and agreed. After helping her brother nestle comfortably into his blankets, the faint sound of the front door opening could be heard. 

"That must be your Papa now. Let's go welcome him ho-" Deafening banging interrupted Lily's words. The sounds of a fight made their way into the nursery. Lily quickly lifted her daughter, her eyes wide and face pale.

"Mama, what's-"

"Hush darling. You need to be very quiet for Mama, alright?"

Lily promptly placed her daughter into the wardrobe, weaving complicated locking and silencing charms onto it. She prayed that it would be overlooked. 

The girl watched through the slit of the wardrobe doors as a strange pale man forced his way into the nursery. She trembled, whimpering as the Bad Man advanced on her Mama. Her heart pounded loudly and she couldn't hear anything but "No, take me instead!" and "Not my baby!". 

It happened lightning-fast; two words screamed out and a sickly green jet was hurtling towards her Mama. The body fell to the ground, an instant kill. The girl let out an anguished cry, knowing in her heart of hearts that her Mama was de-dea-. Gone. But another cry pierced the air, and she remembered her brother. Her innocent, defenceless brother out there with the Mad Man. 

With renewed strength, she struggled against the doors locking her in. She clawed at the wood feverishly, clawed till her fingers bled. Still, she remained helpless as the Crazy Man pointed his wand at her brother - her precious baby brother! - and said the two Evil Words. The puke green light flared again and she wanted to close her eyes but couldn't.

Wanted to look away as the ray touched the infant but unable to turn around.

Held her breath as a blinding white light filled the room.

Gasped as the green light bounced back towards the Slimy Man.

A piercing wail, then there was nothing left of him but an amorphous black vapour which dissipated quickly.

Silence. A haunting stillness in the wake of the tragedy. 

The girl snapped as she pushed at the doors again. "I need to get out. Get out! GET OUT!" A hot surge of something welled up in her. ('Magic,' she thought in the back of her mind.) The heat rose and rose as she instinctively held her palms facing the doors. It forced its way out through her open palms, splintering the wood. One last hot pulse, and the doors burst open.

She tumbled out of her hiding place and scampered towards her Mama. "Wake up. Mama, wake up!" she pleaded while shaking the still-warm body.  Mama was so still, even though her eyes were open. Her panicked cries were interrupted by a horrific bawling. Her eyes shot up to the cot as she stumbled to her feet. 

Her brother was okay. He was frantic and crying, but he was alive. Shakily, she picked him up and tried to coo soothingly at him. (If it sounded strangled, he didn't seem to notice.) With her Mama d-dead and Papa probably as well, she needed to take care of the baby. 

When he finally calmed down, he looked up with his eyes wide open. She froze. His eyes weren't the emerald green she saw in the mirror everyday, the same shade as their Mama's. Suddenly, all she could see was the sickly-puke-evil-DEATH-green (AVADA KEDAVRA, her mind shrieks).

And she screams.


	2. A Day in the Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a pretty short chapter, not very essential to the plot. Don't worry, the following ones will be longer. Hope you enjoy!

Heather Lyra Potter jerked awake with a stifled yell. She looked around the room wildly, relaxing only when she saw the other occupant in the cramped cot.

“Hadrian’s here. Hadrian’s safe. No need to panic.”

Eventually, her heartbeat slowed to normal as she relaxed against the mattress. Taking a glimpse at an old, battered clock, she decided to let her brother sleep for a while more before waking him up.

Heather turned to face her still-slumbering brother, unaware of the horrors of her nightmares ( _memories_ ). And he would remain oblivious if she could help it. Gentle fingers stroked through his unruly copper-red mane. As his hair was brushed away from his face, her expression darkened in remembrance. The raised flesh of his lightning-bolt scar was the burden her brother had carried since that fateful night.

Shaking off her heavy mood, Heather lightly nudged Hadrian awake. "Rian, time to wake up now.” She smiled indulgently as her brother yawned widely and slowly blinked his eyes up at her. The last vestiges of sleep faded from his eyes and he beamed brightly.

“G’morning!” he chirped and quickly wound his arms around her for a snuggle. The siblings silently savoured the contact before simultaneously getting up to get ready for the day.

While Heather was pulling on her too-loose shirt, a loud banging shook the wooden door. The clicking of numerous locks being released could be heard before, right on schedule…" **FREAKS!** Prepare breakfast now!” Aunt Petunia’s shrill voice broke the peace.

Heather shot a glance at her brother and they both schooled their expressions into placid compliance. They’d learnt early on that less defiance meant less pain and less hunger. As she led her brother out of the Cupboard Under the Stairs, she thought sardonically, ‘Yep, just another wonderfully normal day at Number 4 Privet Drive.'

~~~

The Potter siblings had, through painful trial and error, established a routine that maximised their comfort and minimised their…relatives’ ire.

Heather would be the first in the kitchen, starting breakfast preparations before the Dursleys came downstairs from their bedrooms. This was the perfect time for her to squirrel away as much food as possible without them noticing. Her finely-honed skills kept her and her brother from starving. This also had the added advantage of ensuring all the more dangerous tasks like deep-frying and chopping were completed before Hadrian’s turn in the kitchen. He would, in the meantime, use the facilities as well as keep track of the Dursleys’ movements.

Once the difficult jobs were done, Heather would exchange places with Hadrian. While he toasted muffins and set the table, Heather would hurry through her morning ablutions. By the time she left the bathroom, the Dursleys would have already started pigging out (Uncle Vernon and Dudley) or picking through (Aunt Petunia) their standard English breakfast fare. Ostentatiously to give a reason for being outside the kitchen, Heather would bring in the mail and newspapers from the front stoop.

Only after the Dursleys had finished their meal and all the washing up had been done – by Heather and Hadrian both, of course – would Aunt Petunia hand them the scant leftovers then banish them back to their cupboard to eat. Often times, these scraps would comprise only a soggy muffin each and a hardboiled egg to share.

When in the relative safety of their cupboard, however, Heather would produce her spoils with a flourish. This brought to the table at least double the amount originally given. Unfailingly, the lion’s share would be given to Hadrian. She stubbornly ignored her brother’s daily protests, refusing to let her brother go hungry.

Fifteen minutes was all they would be granted before they were dragged out and slapped (sometimes even literally, if they were slow) with a list of chores. The tasks ranged from weeding to dusting to washing to… The list went on. The siblings would work seamlessly to finish all their chores while avoiding Uncle Vernon’s belt and their cousin Dudley’s fists.

Unfortunately, their careful navigation around the volatile minefield would sometimes falter. On those days, they’d be subjected to whips across their backs or HH Hunting and be locked up without food. Otherwise, supper would be a repeat performance of breakfast. Then, the siblings would be corralled back into their cupboard till the next day.

~~~

Days, weeks, months, _years_ , passed in much the same way at Number 4 Privet Drive. That day, however, was one of precious few special days. It was 30 June, the eve of Heather’s birthday. Her eleventh, to be precise.


	3. Remembrance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second chapter I'm posting today because the previous wasn't very substantial. So if you haven't read the previous one, go back to it! Suggestions, comments are very welcome! :)

The siblings had thankfully gone through the day without setting any of the Dursleys off. As usual, they were shoved back into their cupboard in the evening and locked up tight. Instead of their normal routine, however, on this particular night, they were determined to stay up till midnight. 

"So, what should we do in the meantime? There's still," Hadrian paused to peer at the clock, "three hours till your birthday."

"Have you finished your writing practices?" Heather asked sternly.

Hadrian nodded eagerly and showed his sister his worksheets. Heather looked them over with a critical eye and nodded approvingly at the conscientious work. Since their  _beloved_ Aunt and Uncle had stopped letting them attend school ("What use do freaks have for school?"), Heather had been forced to teach herself and her brother using the various books and homework Dudley regularly 'lost' in their cupboard. Mama had always emphasised the importance of learning.

"Since it's a special occasion, we can skip work for today," Heather paused at her brother's quiet cheer. "Why don't I tell you a few stories about Mama and Papa?" Seeing Hadrian's ecstatic expression, she smiled warmly and began her tale.

"Papa loved to play pranks on people, as I've told you before. You remember the story about how he cheered his friend up using the balloons and whipped cream?" Hadrian laughed at the memory. "He made lots of people happy with his jokes. However, he also sometimes went too far. Mama told me that Papa had hurt many people with his actions too."

"Y'mean like how Dudley does mean things to us that makes his friends laugh?" Hadrian interrupted with a frown. 

Heather paused her story and looked worriedly at her brother. She didn't want Rian to dislike their father, but he had to understand the lesson in this story. She phrased her next words carefully. 

"Rian, Papa  _was_ a bit of a bully, but he eventually grew up to truly regret hurting those people. He knew that what he did when he was younger was wrong." Heather, seeing that her brother now had a thoughtful look on his face, continued her tale.

"When they were students, Papa was really jealous that Mama was spending more time with another friend of hers, Sev. Papa didn't like that and decided to play many pranks on Sev. Many of these pranks humiliated and injured him. Once, Papa placed huge spiders in Sev's bag. The spiders bit him and he had to be treated for poisoning!"

Hadrian gasped and gestured for his sister to hurry up with the story. 

"Sev got better, thankfully. But all these pranks strained Mama and Sev's friendship. In the end, they stopped being friends." At this point, Hadrian looked horrified.

Heather hoped that her brother wouldn't hate their father after this, but she felt it important to teach him this. "Papa told me he was really, really sorry, though he wasn't able to say that to Sev himself. Mama and Papa told me this to teach me not to be cruel and mean," Heather hesitated, then continued sheepishly, "This happened after I kicked another girl for pulling my hair."

Hadrian remained silent for a while, digesting his sister's words. "Okay," he began tentatively, "so we can't be mean to people. But what if other people are mean to us?" Like the Dursleys, went unsaid.

"Well, if we're being attacked, we need to stand up for ourselves," Heather reasoned sensibly. "Like when we take food because they don't give us enough. Or if someone hits you, you need to defend yourself." She looked unconsciously at her brother's forehead. "Otherwise, being unnecessarily cruel would be just like Uncle Vernon..." she trailed off. 

Hadrian made a face of disgust at that. "Right, no being mean," he said firmly. 

Heather smiled, nodding her head at her brother. She glanced at the clock and grinned; it was two minutes to midnight. Grasping onto Rian's hands, they waited as the seconds ticked by. 

.

.

.

Finally! It was midnight! Heather's eleventh birthday had finally arrived. "Happy birthday Heather!" Hadrian whispered gleefully. Heather giggled and hugged her brother; it was now time for their next tradition. Her brother loved this next part and looked forward to it every year on their birthdays.

Closing her eyes for effect, she focussed on that well inside of her and effortlessly pushed some of it out of the tips of her fingers. Rian's amazed gasp and the warm tingling on her hands told her that it'd worked. 

Heather opened her eyes to see tiny flames on each of her fingertips. As usual, using magic made her feel exuberant and warm. Looking at her brother mischievously, she obligingly put on a show for his entranced gaze. Her magic eagerly met her demands and grew brighter, giving the dark cupboard a golden glow. Concentrating harder, she made each flame a different colour. They glowed red, blue, purple, silver and more. Hadrian was practically jumping on the bed in his excitement. She returned the flames to a normal candle-sized ember, not wanting to strain herself. 

"I wish I could do that," Hadrian sighed, still staring in awe at the flames. 

"Who says you can't?" Heather grinned at her brother wickedly. "I'll teach you."

Hadrian snapped to attention and looked at his sister. She was always careful about letting him try his magic. "Really?" he asked hopefully. 

"Hmm, I'm eleven, but I've only got ten candles..." Heather wiggled her fingers in emphasis.

"Teach me, teach me!" Hadrian whisper-shouted as he thrust out his left index finger. 

Heather chuckled at her brother's enthusiasm and began to instruct, "First, close your eyes. Search for the warmth of your magic," Hadrian smiled as he felt the familiar tingling, "Then, draw a bit of magic to your hand. Imagine a tiny flame bursting from your fingertip. You need to have a really clear picture in your mind. Lastly, you need to  _will_ it to happen. Be firm as you guide your magic."

Hadrian furrowed his brows and focussed on the image in his head, willing his magic to make it happen. He really,  _really_ , wanted it to happen. Warmth seemed to glow in his finger. 

"Open your eyes, Rian." Hadrian could hear the smile in his sister's voice. Slowly, he lifted his eyelids, hoping that he'd gotten it right. 

There, sitting atop his index finger, a brilliant orange flame danced merrily. His face broke into a wide smile, green eyes sparkling in the light of his magic flame. "I did it! See, Heather?"

"Oh, I'm seeing alright. You're doing great, Rian!" Heather beamed proudly at her brother. 

Her brother blushed adorably and ducked his head, changing the subject. "Okay, now you have all eleven candles. Make a wish and blow them out!"

A sly smirk was shot Hadrian's way. "What's a birthday without a sweet treat?" Heather said, looking pointedly at her brother's shirt pocket. He looked confused, fumbling with his free hand through the pocket. His eyes lit up as he brought out two pieces of foil-wrapped chocolate.

Hadrian held the treats up and said, "Now that we have your candles and cake, make your wish!"

Heather smiled tenderly at her brother and thought fervently, 'I wish for Rian to be safe and protected from all harm!' her magic warmed approvingly at her regular birthday wish. Taking a deep breath, she extinguished all the flames in one blow. She let out an 'oomph' as her brother tackle-hugged her into the cot, singing 'Happy Birthday' softly. 

As they drifted off to sleep, Heather had one last thought. 

'A happy birthday indeed...'


	4. The Letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya! Here's another chapter, hope you enjoy it. Any comments or suggestions are very welcome!

Drowsy verdant eyes fluttered open to the dark gloom of the cupboard under the stairs. Shaking off the grogginess from the late night she'd had, Heather nudged her brother awake. Her internal alarm told her that they did not have the time for the previous morning's lassitude. Birthday aside, it would be just another typical day at Number 4 Privet Drive.

Settling into their morning routine, Heather efficiently prepared batter for blueberry pancakes while magicking some toast into the cupboard. Throughout her breakfast preparations, she continued to sneak way unnoticeable portions of food. She hardly had to strain herself at all, having had to do this for years already.

Hadrian entered the kitchen and took Heather's place while she stole into the bathroom. She quickly freshened up then went to retrieve the mail.  As she approached the front door, however, she felt an odd awareness directed at a thick envelope.

'Why does that letter have magic?' Heather wondered as she picked it up. Her eyes widened when she saw that it was addressed to her. She suppressed her curiosity and magicked it to a hidden alcove in the cupboard. She hurried to bring the remaining stack to Uncle Vernon. She had dallied too much as it was.

Heather paid for the delay with a newly bruised cheek and ribs, but thankfully Hadrian was spared punishment. She passed the rest of the day in an almost-daze, trying - and failing - to put the letter out of her mind. She even missed the numerous worried glances her brother gave her when the Dursleys weren't paying attention.

~~~ 

"Okay, tell me what's wrong Heather. You've been out of it the whole day!" Hadrian demanded as soon as they were once again locked in their cupboard.

Heather gave him a chagrined look and apologised, "Sorry Rian. It's just, I received a letter-"

"A letter? Who's it from?" Hadrian cut in, looking sheepish at his sister's raised brow.

"A letter that has magic in it. I was just about to read it," Heather continued. She held her hand out and the letter flew from seemingly nowhere into her waiting palm. 

Absentmindedly, Heather waved her hand and an orb of light floated into existence. Now that she could see the letter clearly, she noted a heavy wax seal on it depicting some sort of crest. Hesitantly, she broke the seal and took out the few pieces of very thick paper. Her eyes brightened as she read the letter out to Hadrian.

 ~~~

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

 

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore 

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc. Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

 

_Dear Miss Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl no later than 31 July._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

~~~ 

 So they would be attending Hogwarts after all. She hadn't been too sure, what with being abandoned to the Dursleys who passionately hated magic and anything abnormal. Looking up at Rian, Heather chuckled at his excited expression.

"You'll be going to Hogwarts! What about me? Do I get a letter too?"

Heather frowned lightly. "You will get your letter in two years. Wizards and witches get enrolled when they're eleven," she tried to put delicately.

"Oh..." Hadrian's face fell slightly. "But we'll stay together right? I won't be left here alone with _them_?"

Rian was right. She couldn't leave him here; she absolutely refused to. How was she going to protect him if they weren't together?

Coming to a decision, Heather nodded determinedly. "Right, I'll write a reply to the school and ask. Could you pass me a pen and some paper please?" Heather watched as her brother rummaged around in one of the many cardboard boxes littering the floor. She helpfully directed the glowing orb to hover directly over him.

"Ahah! I've found a pen," Hadrian announced, holding up a slightly bent ball-point. "But...we don't have any blank paper," he said dejectedly.

"That's alright," Heather assured her brother, "Just give me some of the used worksheets."

Hadrian passed the items to his sister, a bemused expression on his face. He didn't voice his confusion though. Heather could do anything.

Heather took the proffered items and shot a smile at her brother. "Thanks, now let's try this out..." She waved her hand over the worksheets and directed her magic. Soon, the printed words began to fade, leaving lightly crumpled pieces of plain paper.

Seeing her brother's awed look, Heather decided it was time for another magic lesson. "Remember, Rian, the most important thing about using magic is your intent. You can do mostly anything as long as you have your goal in mind and direct your magic accordingly." Heather waved her hand in demonstration and the orb of light grew bigger. "Go on - practise with your magic. Do whatever you want, I won't restrict you this time. Just remember to keep it down; we don't want to wake the Dursleys."

Heather left her brother to his practice and went about writing the letter. She wrote slowly, using her nicest penmanship. Wouldn't want the Deputy Headmistress to have a bad impression. 

After rewriting the letter a few times, Heather was finally satisfied. She called Hadrian over to read it.

 

~~~

 

_Dear Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall,_

_I am Heather Lyra Potter and I would, foremost, like to thank you for my acceptance into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I would be delighted to attend come 1 September. I do, however, have several queries that I hope to have addressed._

_Firstly, I am concerned about the well-being of my brother, Hadrian Leo Potter, while I attend school. I understand that Hogwarts is a boarding school, so will my brother be lodging with me during the academic year? If not, may I delay my admittance until we can both attend school together._

_Secondly, there may be issues regarding my finances. My brother and I do not have any monetary assets. How will we afford the school fees and pay for supplies?_

_Lastly, I am unsure of how to get to Hogwarts or even where to go for school supplies. Could I request a guide to show me directions?_

_These are all the pressing questions I have for now. Thank you again._

 

_Yours sincerely,_

_Heather Potter_

~~~

"Well, what do you think?" Heather asked when her brother set the letter down. Without a word, he flung himself at her and clutched at her oversized shirt.

"You'd really wait two years to go to Hogwarts with me?" Hadrian mumbled into Heather's shirt.

Heather's gaze softened and she wrapped her arms around her brother's thin shoulders.  "Of course! I can't just leave you alone with these horrid people, now can I?" Hadrian just snorted in amusement and tightened his grip.

"Hey Heather?" Hadrian started when something occurred to him. "How are we going to mail the letter?"

Heather blinked and mulled over her brother's words. She had forgotten that teensy detail. She skimmed over her Hogwarts letter again, as if a return address would suddenly pop into existence.

"We await your owl...?" Heather muttered to herself. Oh! Wizards sent mail by owl, like homing pigeons. She shook her head at her silliness; she had forgotten so much about wizarding life.

"Where are we going to get an owl?" Hadrian asked after Heather explained the situation. "Do you suppose the school would have left an owl nearby for us? I mean, they should know we don't have one ourselves right?" he mused. 

"Well, we could try to find one." Heather nodded decisively. "Okay, let's go outside and look around."

Hadrian perked up at the mention of a night-time excursion and leapt off their cot. He stopped at the heavily locked door of their cupboard and looked at his sister expectantly. 

Heather raised an eyebrow at her brother in challenge. "Would you like to do the honours? Put your earlier practice to use?"

A determined glint entered Hadrian's eyes. He raised his hands towards the door and took a deep breath. He concentrated on the feel of his magic and nudged it against the dozen-odd locks on the other side of the door. Just focus, he could do this.

Heather let out a pleased hum as the familiar feeling of her brother's potent magic swirled in the room. He had more magic than she did, despite his age. It didn't take long for the clicking of locks to be heard. She quickly reached out with her own magic to slowly lower the padlocks to the ground. They didn't want a commotion to rouse the other occupants of the house.

The door soon swung open without resistance. Heather gave her brother an enthusiastic hug and a kiss on the forehead before leading him out. They stealthily made their way out of the house through the backdoor.

Stepping into the garden, Heather scanned the trees for any perching owls. To her dismay, she couldn't spot any, especially in the dark. Perhaps she could try to locate one using magic. Focussing inwards, she pictured a hooting owl and sort of flung her magic outwards. Going entirely on instinct now, she felt a few blips of awareness. She started walking towards one near to them.

"What are you-" She shushed her brother gently, not wanting to lose her concentration.

At the base of a tree that held the blip, Heather peered into the foliage. There appeared to be a bird in there, hopping about nervously as it wasn't able to fly away. Hmm, it was probably just a wild owl. She released her magic tether on it and it disappeared in a flurry of feathers.

Two more blips led to wild owls as well. Walking towards the fourth blip, Heather despaired of ever finding a wizarding post owl. When she walked closer to it though, a tawny owl flew towards her and landed on her shoulder. She winced at the sharp claws and swallowed her surprise at the forward bird.

The owl seemed to hoot expectantly at the letter she held in her hand. "Are you a post owl?" Heather felt almost silly talking to it, but an affirmative coo was given. Heather sighed in relief. "Could you help me take this to Deputy Headmistress McGonagall at Hogwarts?" She held the letter up. Another coo, then the owl held one of its legs out. Heather stared questioningly before blushing and holding the letter closer to the clawed foot. The owl closed its talons and grasped the letter firmly.

"Remember, the letter is for Hogwarts' Deputy Headmistress." At the reminder, the owl seemed to hoot in exasperation. Heather had the feeling that it would roll its eyes if it could. The owl then flew off with a sharp cry.

"Fly safe! And thank you!"

Heather turned to her brother who had been uncharacteristically quiet (in her presence, anyway) during the search.

"Wow," was all Hadrian could say after seeing his sister find owl after owl, seemingly effortlessly. Heather talking to that owl had been odd though, despite what he himself could do.

Heather just smiled indulgently then ushered her brother back inside, replacing all the locks on the way in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Hogwarts letter was sourced from HP Wiki, I don't own it.


	5. Minerva McGonagall

The next day dawned bright and early as usual for the Potter siblings. As Heather untangled herself from her brother's limbs, jabs of pain on her torso reminded her unpleasantly of her Uncle's _presents_. She absentmindedly directed healing magic to her ribs. She'd have to bear with her cheek injury though. It wouldn't do for the _freak's_ wounds to visibly heal overnight.

 Heather and Hadrian spent the day in a state of anticipation. Lucky for them, the Dursleys were all too self-involved and not nearly as observant. When night-time fell, though, and _still_ no correspondence had arrived...

 Heather did her best to assure her brother. _Surely_ it took more than a day for even a wizarding owl to make a return trip from wherever Hogwarts was? The reply would definitely arrive in a few days. Seeing the gloom diminish in Hadrian's eyes, she sighed inwardly in relief and kept her own concerns to herself.

Days flew past yet dragged on. Still no sign of owls on the horizon. Heather had to occupy every free moment Hadrian had with lessons in maths, reading and writing to keep his mind off Hogwarts. Eventually, only practising his magic drew him out of his funk. Meanwhile, Heather tried to tamp down on her growing insecurity. What if Hogwarts withdrew their invitation? Was she too demanding with her queries? She tried not to let her worries grow. 

~~~

It wasn't until Sunday next, exactly two weeks before Hadrian's birthday, that they received a reply from Hogwarts. Though it wasn't in the form of a letter.

The Dursleys were on one of their family outings, reluctantly leaving the siblings free reign of the house. Free reign for the Dursleys meant, of course, locking them in the cupboard under the stairs with a few slices of stale bread. Free reign for the siblings, however, meant releasing the padlocks and generally lounging about the house.

Therefore, it came as a surprise when Heather felt a surge of magic before someone knocked on the front door. She shared a glance with her brother before walking towards the entranceway. Making sure that Hadrian stayed behind her, she cautiously opened the door.

Only to be surprised to see a distinguished-looking elderly lady dressed in some sort of odd flowing black dress.

"Good day to you Madame. How may I be of assistance?" Heather offered when she remembered the manners Petunia drilled into her. She still warily held the door half-closed because this lady was definitely a witch.

"Good day, I am Minerva McGonagall. I am looking for Miss and Mr Potter," the lady said curtly with a slight Scottish accent.

Heather lit up in excitement. Finally, a response to their letter! She held the door open wider. "Pleased to meet you, Deputy Headmistress! I am Heather Potter and this," she gestured to her brother, "is my brother Hadrian Potter. Would you like to come in?"

The elder witch's eyes warmed slightly. "Thank you, I believe we have a few matters to discuss? And Miss Potter, you may simply refer to me as Professor," she said as she stepped into the Dursleys' home.

"Would you like some tea, Professor?" Heather eagerly offered. It was truly fortunate that the Dursleys weren't home.

The Professor nodded her agreement, so Heather went to the kitchen while Hadrian led the way to the sitting room. She shamelessly rummaged through the cabinets and used the best tea things Petunia had. The imported tea leaves, rose china, silver tea tray, all the works. Feeling a bit vindictive, she took some of Petunia's favourite gingersnaps as well. Heather took some pleasure in imagining her Aunt's horror if she found out about one of those _freaks_ being served tea in her perfectly normal home.

Hadrian and Professor McGonagall were chatting when Heather walked into the room.

"Ah, Miss Potter, I was just telling Mr Potter some stories of your parents' Hogwarts days. Both of you have such delightful manners; I'm sure you got that from Lily rather than James," the Professor said with a small quirk of her lips.

Heather chuckled and replied, "Yes, Papa had to be taught manners with Hadrian and I. Poor Mama actually had three children rather than two!" All three of them laughed lightly at this before the mood turned serious.

"Speaking of which, where are your muggle relatives? I regret the lack of advanced notice, but this visit was an impromptu one."

"Muggle?" Heather questioned, her brow wrinkled in slight confusion.

"It means non-magical, Miss Potter."

"Oh, they're out right now, but Aunt Petunia is quite happy to leave discussions regarding the magical world to us," Heather stated truthfully. Petunia wouldn't interact with _freaks_ if she could help it.

Professor McGonagall pursed her lips briefly in disapproval. "Then let's discuss your concerns, shall we?" Heather indicated her agreement and the Professor continued, "First, your financial worries. You need not be concerned as your parents left the both of you a rather sizable inheritance. It will be more than enough to see you though your schooling years."

"How would we access this money?" Heather enquired.

"The vaults containing the inheritance are in the Wizarding Bank of Gringotts. Gringotts and the other shops where you will purchase your school supplies are located in the magical district of Diagon Alley. I will be chaperoning your visit there later on for your shopping." The Professor paused briefly, seeming to hesitate in bringing up the next point.

Heather schooled her expression into neutrality. She knew what the remaining problem was. Rian did too, if his anxious look was anything to go by. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "And what of that other problem I wrote about? Regarding Hadrian?"

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat delicately. "Mr Potter shall have to remain here with your relatives. While the both of you are underage, they will remain your legal guardians. You shall also have to return here during the summer holidays, Miss Potter."

Heather frowned at this and protested, "I don't think Hadrian should be left here alone. It's not safe for him!"

"His safety is actually the very reason he needs to stay here. I understand your concern regarding Deatheaters, but your blood relation to Petunia Dursley née Evans provides protection against wizards who would wish Mr Potter harm," the Professor explained.

"I don't understand. Deatheaters? And what do they have to do with Aunt Petunia?" Heather was confused; Professor McGonagall didn't seem to realise that the danger she was worried about came from their relatives themselves.

The Professor attempted to clarify. "Deatheaters are the followers of the Dark wizard who tried to kill Mr Potter all those years ago," _and succeeded in killing your parents._ "Your mother's sacrifice that day enacted a blood protection for Mr Potter that is maintained by living with your aunt," she tried to say clinically, though her eyes had a suspicious sheen.

"I see." Hadrian clenched his hands to prevent them from shaking. "So I'm still in danger from Dark wizards?" His voice rose in agitation. Heather threaded a hand through his to calm him and he took a deep breath.

"You will be safe living here with your relatives, Mr Potter," the Professor reiterated. 'Yeah, safe from Deatheaters that is,' Heather thought sarcastically.

"I understand," Heather stated softly, "Hadrian and I will enrol at Hogwarts in two years' time then." She ignored the shocked look Rian gave her.

Professor McGonagall was shaking her head. "No Miss Potter. The school laws rule against delays in admittance, barring extenuating circumstances." Heather opened her mouth, but was cut off. "And before you ask, Mr Potter cannot be enrolled early either."

Heather wanted to slump in defeat at the Professor's apologetic but firm expression. She sighed in resignation and smiled weakly at Rian's comforting glance. "You are _absolutely_ sure that the blood protection will hold, even under siege, Professor?"

The elderly witch stared steadily at Heather’s measuring glance and said, "Yes, Miss Potter. I assure you that no wizards will harm Mr Potter in this house. Headmaster Dumbledore has personally verified the integrity of the blood wards."

At Heather's grimly satisfied nod and murmured thanks, the Professor continued, "Now that all that is settled, shall we proceed to purchase your school supplies, Miss Potter, Mr Potter?"

"To Diagon Alley, right, Professor? Is there anything we need to bring?" Hadrian chimed in, glad that the sombre mood was broken.

"All you need is Miss Potter's Hogwarts letter." Professor McGonagall then looked Hadrian over and concluded, "Mr Potter, you may consider donning a hat to cover up your hair and scar. You are known as a sort of celebrity in most of Wizarding Britain. One of your most common monikers is the 'Boy-Who-Lived'. Your wavy copper hair and lightning bolt scar are especially distinctive traits." Hadrian grimaced slightly at the words.

Heather agreed inwardly. Drawing attention meant attracting danger. Anonymity would be their best bet. She smiled slightly at her brother's shudder of distaste. She would be teasing him mercilessly for this. _The Boy-Who-Lived_ , really?

Heather excused herself to clean up the tea tray and to put everything back where she found it. It was unlikely that Petunia would notice anything amiss, but odds were that the Dursleys couldn't be completely oblivious all the time. Best not to try her luck too much.

She returned to the sitting room to see Rian hand a piece of scrap cloth to Professor McGonagall. Curiosity piqued, she observed closely as the elderly witch drew out a long wooden stick out of her sleeve. A swish of her stick, a few muttered words and the cloth turned into a worn cap.

Intrigued, Heather asked, "What did you just do with that stick, Professor?" Was using the stick somehow affecting the use of magic?

"This 'stick' is my wand, Miss Potter. It is a tool that wizards and witches use to channel their magic for spellcasting," the Professor explained while leading the siblings out of the house. "We will be getting you one as well later. However, you cannot use your wand outside of Hogwarts until your seventeenth birthday because of a law that bans underage use of magic."

"But Hadrian and I have used magic without wands before," Heather stated, perplexed.

The Professor led them across the street. "Most magical children display random bursts of magic known as accidental magic when experiencing strong emotions. For controlled use of magic, however, you will need a wand. True wandless magic can only be performed by extremely powerful wizards," she explained matter-of-factly.

Heather exchanged a look with her brother which went unnoticed behind the Professor's back. She shook her head minutely and held a finger to her lips. Hadrian nodded briefly in acquiesce and attempted to divert the conversation.

"So what was that spell you used just now, Professor?" Hadrian asked, half in part trying to change the subjected, half because he was truly curious. The magic he and his sister performed was mostly instinctive and wordless. He was fairly confident that they could replicate what the Professor just did, but perhaps wandmagic was different?

"That, Mr Potter, was a branch of magic known as Transfiguration. It is basically magic which specialises in transforming one object into another. I happen to be the Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts," the witch eagerly lectured. She stopped as she stepped onto the porch of a familiar house and knocked briskly.

'Mrs Figg? Why would we be visiting her?' Heather wondered. The old lady was nice enough to take care of them for the Dursleys occasionally, though she was slightly batty and had an unhealthy fixation on cats. Heather held her peace when the door opened.


	6. The Return

"Yes, who's there?" a croaky voice asked as the door swung open. An old lady with flyaway silver hair and several cats hanging off of her answered the door. 

"Good day to you Arabella," Professor McGonagall greeted warmly. 

"Good afternoon Mrs Figg," Heather and Hadrian both intoned politely. 

Mrs Figg's eyes lit up in recognition and she ushered her visitors in. "Oh Minerva, and with dear Heather and Hadrian too! Come in, come in." She led the way into her living room, nudging a few cats out of the way. "What brings you to visit, dears?"

Professor McGonagall gestured to the fireplace and explained, "We would like to borrow the use of your floo, if you would allow it? I am chaperoning these two to Diagon Alley for Miss Potter's Hogwarts shopping."

"Of course! My, how time flies; already eleven are you, Heather? Why, I remember when you were still just a wee thing, barely up to my knees!" 

"Yes, yes. Arabella, the floo if you would? We really should be on our way," the Professor cut in impatiently. 

Mrs Figg nodded and went to the fireplace. Meanwhile, Professor McGonagall turned to the siblings. "The floo is a form of magical transportation which we will be using to get to Diagon Alley. Do you recall how to use the floo, Miss Potter?"

Heather searched her vague childhood memories. "I have a faint idea, Papa usually carried me through though. We have to toss the powder into the fireplace, step into the flames then say the name of the place we want to go." She looked at the Professor questioningly for confirmation. 

Professor McGonagall nodded curtly. "Quite right, Miss Potter. That powder is called floo powder." She held out a jar of powder and grabbed a handful. "Our destination for today is  _Diagon Alley_ ," The Professor carefully enunciated the words and paused for Heather and Hadrian to repeat them to her satisfaction. "I shall proceed first, then Mr Potter and lastly Miss Potter. Are we clear?"

Waiting until her charges nodded in agreement, Professor McGonagall threw in the floo powder, stepped into the fire and stated clearly, "Diagon Alley!" In a rush of green flames, she disappeared. 

This being the first time Hadrian had witnessed floo travel, he jumped a little in shock. He then took a deep breath and followed the Professor's instructions. With a whoosh and a feeling of vertigo, he was off. 

Heather was left standing in front of the fire. Shooting Mrs Figg a quick smile and goodbye, she too made off into the floo system. The spinning and whirling overwhelmed her before she was spit out onto an unfamiliar floor. She remained sprawled out in the ground for a few more moments before gracefully returning to her feet in an action contrasting her earlier clumsiness. She tried to ignore Rian's snickering as she brushed the spot off her already shabby clothing. Her burning cheeks gave away her mortification. 

Stifling her own sounds of amusement, Professor McGonagall led he way out a backdoor. "This is an inn called the Leaky Cauldron. It caters only to magical folk and is an entrance to Diagon Alley." The door opened to a courtyard which had a large brick wall boxing it in. She used her wand to tap a series of bricks on the wall. "Take note of the order which I tap these bricks," she stated as she stepped back. The bricks shifted and rearranged themselves as they reformed into a large archway. 

Both siblings hesitantly stepped through the archway at the Professor's behest. This would be their first foray into the Wizarding world in eight years. Their eyes widened when they took in the sight of the magical district. 

Various shops and stores flanked a wide cobblestone street. Vendors peddled magical wares like cauldrons and broomsticks. Heather held onto her brother's hand while they trailed after the Professor. Different things caught their attention. The large pointed hats on the witches' heads. A shop selling love potions and philtres. An old hag in a street corner offering séances. They were mesmerised as they ogled the sights of this strange new world they didn't remember being a part of. 

Heather was nearly overwhelmed by the magic that saturated the very air in Diagon Alley. The air in the muggle world seemed so thin and lacking in comparison. At the same time, she wasn't choked by the thick magic. Rather, she felt invigorated and refreshed, as if she'd regained an integral part of herself she hadn't known she'd been missing.

'Hadrian and I should have grown up in this world,' Heather couldn't help thinking. 'This shouldn't be novel to us,' she continued bitterly as she recalled flashing green light and accursed words. Shaking her head sharply, she broke out of her glum mood just in time to see Professor McGonagall stop in front of a large white building.

"This is our first stop - Gringotts Wizarding Bank. Stay close, Mr and Miss Potter," Professor McGonagall instructed sternly and entered the bank. 

The foyer looked fancy, with shiny marble flooring and gilded pillars. There were small partitions where wizards and witches were presumedly speaking with bank tellers. Heather blinked and looked at the tellers again. They were on the short side, with large beaky noses and pointed ears; decidedly not human-looking.

Professor McGonagall noted Heather's curious gaze and whispered, "The bank is run by goblins, a kind of magical creature." She then ushered the siblings into a nearby partition and produced a large metal key. "We are here to make a withdrawal from the Potter trust vault," she told the goblin behind the counter. 

The goblin sneered menacingly and took the offered key. He (for he appeared male, though Heather couldn't be sure) then turned around and snarled in a serious of odd syllables and grunts to someone out of sight. Another goblin soon appeared at his side. He turned back and stated curtly, "Griphook will show you the way."

The newly introduced Griphook preceded them to a rickety-looking cart that rested on thin rails. Professor McGonagall instructed the siblings to follow Griphook to their vault and withdraw about 500 Galleons. She then left to access her own vault, promising to meet again at the entrance of the bank.

"The cart will bring you to the vault," Griphook growled impatiently, already inside it. Heather was beginning to realise that surly was the goblins' default mood. She watched while Rian all but jumped into the wooden death-trap in excitement. In contrast, she stepped gingerly on and immediately took a seat to steady herself. 

With a lurch, the cart shot forward. Heather imagined that this was what roller-coasters felt like. She smiled at Rian's whoops of glee, then turned her attention to the goblin. 

"Mr Griphook?" Heather ventured softly. A grunt. Right, the direct and quick approach then. "What is a Galleon?" She almost shrank back at the disgusted glance Griphook shot at her. 

"The largest of three wizarding currency denominations. A Galleon is 17 Sickles. A Sickle is 29 Knuts," Griphook shot out tersely, looking very put upon. So there were 493 Knuts in a Galleon. 

"How much is there in the Potter vaults approximately?" Heather continued to ask. She figured the goblin would directly tell her to stop if he were so inclined to. 

"Approaching a million Galleons. However, until you are of age, you only have access to the trust vault set up by the late Lord Potter. It holds about 40000 Galleons." Now Mr Griphook just sounded bored as he rattled off statistics. Heather, meanwhile, tried to digest said statistics. That was a whole lot of money! Something occurred to her though. 

"How much does the average Hogwarts student spend?" If one textbook cost, say, 100 Galleons, then the vault mightn't last very long at all. 

Heather thought she saw a glimmer of reluctant amusement in Mr Griphook's eyes. He smirked (and that was scarier than his glares) and answered, "Typically 600 Galleons per annum. The bulk is spent on mandatory Hogwarts supplies." Thinking quickly, Heather did the math in her head. Even with just the trust vault, she and Hadrian had sufficient money to splurge if they wanted to. 

"Though, of course," the goblin continued slyly, "the Potter estate has fallen into relative disrepair due to the lack of management. If Heiress Potter is really concerned for her finances, there are several lucrative investment plans available here at Gringotts."

Heather raised an eyebrow. That was the most the goblin had said so far. And  _Heiress_ Potter? Well, she supposed she was one, with this inheritance and all. For now, she would focus on Mr Griphook's suggestion. "Gringotts allows those underaged to make financial decisions?" she questioned dubiously. 

"The House of Potter is a longstanding client of Gringotts. The Potter Heiress has enough clout to bend some rules," Mr Griphook said while grinning viciously. 

While Heather pondered his words, the cart jerked to a stop. "Vault 694, the Potter trust vault." Mr Griphook led the way to the door and used the key. Heather and Hadrian stepped into the room when directed to and stopped short. 

Piles and piles of shimmering gold coins were stacked haphazardly throughout the room. Mr Griphook's estimates had not prepared Heather for the reality of this vision. She shook her head and made to pick up some coins when she thought of a problem. What would they carry all these coins in? She turned helplessly to the grumpy goblin. 

Mr Griphook stated boredly, "For 5 Galleons, Heiress Potter may purchase a bottomless money pouch with inbuilt featherlight charms." Heather rather thought that he was warming up to her - not a snarl in sight. 

Heather made the purchase and started packing away the coins with Hadrian's help. Thanks to the tiny counter attached to the inseam of the pouch, she easily tracked the amount to 500 Galleons. After a brief hesitation, she added another 100 Galleons. More food and books to survive Privet Drive would not go amiss. 

On the cart ride back, Heather continued discussions with a surprisingly animated (for a goblin) Mr Griphook. Though Heather asked Hadrian for his input occasionally, he was content to let his sister handle all that boring stuff. 

"Perhaps we could correspond during the school year to further these investment plans? Unfortunately, it will be difficult receiving owls at our muggle relatives' house," Heather suggested at the end of the ride. 

The goblin growled - almost pleasantly - his agreement. "Thank you for your assistance, Mr Griphook," Heather said sincerely. While the goblins still intimidated her, it seemed that they (or at the very least, Mr Griphook)  _really_ liked making more money and were a slight bit more welcoming when it was involved.  

"Stop with that 'Mr' business. Goblins don't use those salutations for themselves," the goblin grunted and scowled deeply. "May your gold flow and enemies fall, Heiress and Mr Potter," he continued in an obvious dismissal, handing Heather the vault key. 

Heather and Hadrian looked at each other questioningly and repeated dutifully, "May your gold flow and enemies fall, Griphook." Heather assumed that it was some kind of phrase for farewell. 

Walking to the entrance to meet Professor McGonagall, Heather recalled Griphook's parting sharp-toothed grin with equal parts satisfaction and unsettlement. 


	7. Shopping Spree

"Ah, Miss Potter, Mr Potter." Professor McGonagall beckoned the siblings over. "I trust your withdrawal went smoothly? I'm afraid I have suddenly received some directives from the Headmaster. Will you two be alright shopping yourselves?"

At the siblings' nods of agreement, the Professor continued, "Miss Potter, you have your Hogwarts letter, yes? The supply list is inside. I would suggest you start with buying a trunk as well, so that you have something to carry your purchases in. Now, I must get going. I shall meet you two in four hours, at 7pm in the Leaky Cauldron." With that hasty explanation, the Transfiguration Professor briskly headed into the throng of people. 

Heather took her brother's hand and chirped, "Well, looks like it's just us two,"  _as always_ , "so let's look for that trunk shop. Before that though..." Heather adjusted Hadrian's cap properly to cover his scar and sent it a burst of magic. "There, now the cap will stick to your head and make your features less noticeable. It'll only last a few hours though, so tell me if it starts slipping okay?" She had noticed that her magic didn't like to 'stick' to objects for long. The most she could manage to enhance an object was maybe five hours before the magic sort of escaped. 

"Yep, alright. Thanks!" Hadrian replied. 

"Okay, I think I saw Trock's Trunks that way. Let's go,  _Leo_ ," Heather said, emphasising her brother's middle name. 

Hadrian's eyes brightened in understanding and he took his sister's hand. "Lead the way  _Lyra_!"

~~~

Trock's Trunks had a huge variety of, well, trunks. The owner, Tipple Trock was  _extremely_ eager to help. "These trunks here change colours every hour, while those by the window have specialised thief alarms. Now these come in ten different sizes and those near the counter play classical music when opened..." the owner nattered on and on. 

"Excuse me, Mr Trock," Heather cut in, "We'd just like to give the specifications for our trunks please. We will have two standard large trunks, but with each having an expanded book space, a storage space with food and heavy duty locking charms."

"Two trunks?" Mr Trock's gaze skimmed over Hadrian without taking any special notice of him. Heather sighed inwardly; her magic was working. "Of course, I'll just have to put some wizard space in the shelves and stasis charms for food...Would you like featherweight and shrinking charms imbued as well?" Heather nodded and he continued, "If you would wait for about a half hour, I'll get your order ready." He then disappeared into a backroom. 

Heather wandered about the shop while waiting for the trunks to be done. She was admiring the colour-changing trunks when Hadrian called for her. "Hea- Lyra! Come look at this," he said, pointing at a glass display. 

Inside the case was two identical wooden boxes about the size of a jewellery box. There were odd little symbols carved into the edges the boxes. A small sign on the glass read:

 

_Based on the Vanishing Cupboard,_

_Trock's Trunks brings to you the Transporting Chests!_

_Small items can be easily sent from one chest to its paired one in a matter of minutes!_

_Warning: Living items may experience dismemberment, spontaneous combustion, heart attacks, nerve damage, memory loss and various other dangers should they be placed in the chests._

 

Heather grew increasingly excited as she read through the description. These would be immensely helpful when she had to be separated from Rian. 

"Neat, huh? We could send each other letters or presents even when you're at Hogwarts!" Hadrian looked pleadingly at his sister, begging with his wide eyes. 

Heather hid her smile behind a hand and remarked casually, "Hmm, really?" She turned around dismissively, prompting more entreaties from her brother. Heather had already decided to get them, though. If she could send Rian a constant supply of food and other necessities without the Dursleys knowing...

"Ah, young lady, your trunks are ready!" Mr Trock announced from the counter. Heather shot a smirk at her brother before going to inspect the trunks. "See this node here? Press it to activate and deactivate the shrinking charm." He pressed it a few times to demonstrate. "I also attached a simple chain to each of them to act as necklaces in their shrunken form."

The trunks worked perfectly and had the correct compartments. Heather then set the personal locks with Mr Trock's assistance. 

"Thank you for these trunks, Mr Trock. They're very beautifully crafted and they work like a dream!" Heather said, exaggerating only a tiny bit. "I couldn't help but notice but notice those Vanishing Chests over there - they're such masterful creations as well!" Heather continued to praise. It wouldn't hurt to stroke his ego a little.

The proprietor absolutely glowed at the compliments. "You have marvellous taste; those are my newest masterpieces! You're the first to comment on them."

"Are they able to transport food safely?"

"Why yes, definitely! As long as it's not a living creature, the chest can reliably transport it," Mr Trock boasted. 

"That's just amazing! Oh, they would be great for when Hogwarts starts. It's the first time I'll be separated from my brother you know," Heather sighed out wistfully. 

She peered surreptitiously at Mr Trock's sympathetic look. "Oh my, that's tough isn't it? How about this - I'll charge you a total of 150 Galleons for a pair of the Vanishing Chests and your two trunks."

Heather didn't have to fake her next look of disbelief. That would be close to a 40% discount! "Oh, I couldn't possibly accept that! You're much too generous, kind sir."

"Nonsense! It's the least I could do, especially for a fellow art connoisseur," the wizard said, waving off her protests as he worked his till. 

Grinning widely, Heather handed over the gold coins and thanked the shop owner again. She placed the two chests into the trunks and shrank them. Rian was waiting for her at the door. He was looking at her in awe and she gave him a smug smile. Both siblings gave a little bow as they said their farewells to Mr Trock. 

Hadrian turned to his sister after they exited the shop and stated seriously, "You, dear sister, are a master." Heather burst into giggles at the straight-faced declaration and then directed them to the next store. 

~~~

They slowly worked their way through Heather's supply list. First robes and uniforms from Madam Malkin's. Then they bought quills, ink and parchment from Scribbulus'. Shop after shop, they filled their trunks with the supplies needed, buying some for Hadrian to practise with too. By unspoken agreement, they left Heather's wand for last. 

As they were heading towards Slug and Jiggers Apothecary, Heather spotted the Second-Hand Bookshop. She smiled widely and tugged her brother towards the shop. 

"Lyra, we've already bought your schoolbooks and many others at Flourish and Blotts! You don't need any more." 

Heather ignored him and headed straight for the shelves. Hadrian just sighed and went to peruse the books himself. 'Hypocrite,' Heather thought petulantly, 'He bought as many books as I did!'

Most of the books contained rude comments and obscene doodles. Heather dismissed those entirely. Putting aside a copy of Scamander's  _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ with stickmen draw right on the cover page, a tattered green book caught her eye. The edition of Herbert's  _Potion Ingredient Properties_ looked just shy of falling apart at the seams, so Heather couldn't say why she'd picked it up. She shrugged and flipped to a random page; her instincts had never failed her before. 

The page was covered in slanted sharp writing and even a few sketches. There was hardly any blank space at all. She focussed on the paragraph explaining the properties of hellebore. 

 

**Hellebore is a flowering plant from which Syrup of Hellebore is extracted. The syrup can be used in draughts to cure paralysis, gout and insanity. Many species of hellebore are poisonous.**

 

Heather chuckled as she read the written notes. 

 

_How idiotic. To cure paralysis indeed. More like induce it. It functions as a potent nerve relaxant, causing numbness to overwhelm the affected regions and render the ~~drinker~~ victim paralyzed. This property, managed stringently, is essential in the Draught of Peace. _

 

Page after page contained corrections and snarky quips. A lot of helpful diagrams and advice were also included in the footnotes. Heather really anticipated reading through this book. She flipped to the first page. 

 

_This Book is Property of the Half-Blood Prince_

 

Heather frowned, perplexed. An odd moniker, to be sure. Sounded rather pompous, really. Though it wasn't as horrible as the Boy-Who-Lived. She skimmed the shelf for other books owned by the Half-Blood Prince. 

"Looking for something dear?" Heather spun around and saw that the question had come from elderly wizard who owned the store. She explained her predicament to him and he offered to 'Summon' the books. 

" _Accio_ Half-Blood Prince's books," the wizard incanted as he gave a twirl of his wand. Heather watched avidly as the spell was cast and several books flew off the shelves towards the shopkeeper. Heather made a note to herself that Summoning meant magicking objects to herself. 

There were nine books in total, all declared property of this mysterious prince. Five of these were Potions books while two were about Defence and there was one each on Charms and Arithmancy. Heather thanked the wizard for his help.

"Leo, are you done browsing?" Heather asked as she carried the Prince's books to the counter. 

"Yeah, can we get these too?" Hadrian brought over three books. There was one on wizarding traditions, another on wizarding fairytales and a last one on wandlore. Heather added them to her own pile. 

"We'll be getting these please, sir," Heather told the elderly wizard. 

"That will be 5 Galleons and 3 Sickles," the wizard said kindly. 

Heather was surprised at the low price, but didn't argue. These books  _were_ rather worn. 

"Thank you sir, we'll definitely be coming back again!" Heather promised as they stepped outside the shop. 

"Come on, Lyra. Apothecary, then your wand!" Hadrian enthused, skipping down the street. Heather laughed at his energy and followed after him. 


	8. Mr Tall, Dark and Surly

The earthy scent of herbs and spices was the first thing Heather noticed when she followed her brother into the apothecary. It smelled a lot like Petunia's garden. Though to call it hers would imply that she actually did the work in it.

Besides the various plant cuttings, there were also phials filled with... _things_. Heather read a few labels and felt both fascinated  _and_ squeamish. Pickled toad eyes, flobberworm mucous, powdered scarabs... All manners of odd animal parts lined the shelves. 

"Hey, Lyra?" Hadrian's call caught her attention. "Is this what you need?" He was pointing at a pile labelled 'First Year Ingredients Set'. Heather walked over and picked one of the boxes up. 

"Maybe? The supply list doesn't say what ingredients to get," she murmured. 

Heather opened the clasp on the box to reveal neatly labelled and arranged phials. Picking out a few, she inspected them and frowned. Hadrian made a disapproving sound when he peered into the phials. 

"Help me look for another box," Heather asked her brother while she replaced the one she had and chose another. Both siblings searched fruitlessly through several other sets before stopping. Heather sighed and took one of the sets to the counter, signalling for Rian to continue his browsing. 

"Excuse me, sir," Heather said to the wizard manning the register, "Do you happen to have newer batches of the First Year Ingredients Set? These aren't very good anymore."

The plump man narrowed his eyes and replied hotly, "Those are the most recent shipment! There is nothing wrong with the ingredients!"

Heather wanted to scoff at this. If there was anything that Petunia had taught her and Rian, it was flowers and herbs. If only to force them to maintain 'her' immaculate garden. Instead, she settled for proving her case. Calmly, she held up a phial. "This is clearly labelled ' _Fresh_  Valerian', but these leaves are much too yellowed and the stalk too wrinkled. And this ' _Fresh_ Lavender' is obviously dried lavender-"

"ENOUGH!" the wizard shouted, "Who do you think you are, girl? Coming into _my_ shop and insulting _my_ wares! Slug and Jiggers has been supplying top quality potions ingredients for decades!" His face got redder and redder as he continued his tirade. 

"Imbecile," a third voice cut in smoothly. From behind Heather, an arm reached out and plucked the phial out of her grasp. "These ingredients are abysmal. They belong in the compost, not in potions." The voice somehow  _dripped_ condescension. 

Heather watched, amazed, as the shopkeeper paled and sputtered, "Pr-Professor S-Snape! Those ingredients-"

"Are ones that even subpar brewers would recognise as utterly useless," the unknown wizard interjected. 

Heather turned around to look at her inadvertent saviour.  _Dark_ was the first thing that came to mind. The man was clad in imposing black robes that covered almost every inch of his body. Raven hair framed his face and fell to his shoulders. His eyes were an intense shade of onyx that seemed endlessly deep and were currently filled with derision. The other details came next. His skin was pale in the extreme, an almost ghostly pallor. A patrician nose sat slightly too large on his face, giving him a very intimidating glare. Speaking of which...

"Such shoddy material should never have a hope of entering any cauldron. The dunderheads I teach are incompetent enough without this fertilizer masquerading as potions ingredients!" The man made berating an art form! No wonder he was a Professor. 

"You _will_ take these substandard materials and put them where they belong - in the trash. You _will_  allow this girl - and any other Hogwarts students - to choose their own fresh ingredients from your regular stock. You _will_  charge them the original price of this set as stated on the display. Do you understand, or do you require pictorial aid?" the man drawled in his cutting tone. Heather winced inwardly with every sentence spoken - and she wasn't even the target of his ire!

The store owner was gaping like a fish. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened, then... Heather fought not to smirk. 

The Professor then dismissed the dumbfounded man, turning sharply to Heather. It was a visceral reaction; she snapped to attention, almost giving him a military salute. 

"Well, girl, what are you dithering about for?" the man bit out. 

Heather hesitated, then screwed up her courage. "Would you help me with the animal-based ingredients? I'm only familiar with the plants..." she trailed off, struggling not to shrink back. 

The scary Professor gave her a measuring glance, seeming to look for something. Heather held his stare, refusing to look away. 

"The first ingredient," he eventually snapped out, causing Heather to frown in confusion. "What. Is. It," he emphasised, looking pointedly at the list of ingredients that came with the set. 

Oh.  _Oh_. Quickly, she scanned the list for the first animal ingredient. "Ashwinder eggs."

"Did I say the eleventh ingredient? The first one, you daft girl!" He seemed close, well,  _closer_ ~~~~to losing his temper. Heather was lost, though. Ashwinder eggs _was_ the first animal-based ingredient. 

"Do you habitually leave tasks half-done? I assure you, I do not," the Professor said silkily. He raised an eyebrow and waited. 

Heather had to bite her lip to keep from smiling at this revelation. She didn't think the dour wizard would appreciate it. "Asphodel." Whoops, she could hear the smile in her voice. 

So could he, apparently, for he spared her a short (but no less effective) glare before heading for a crate labelled 'Fresh Asphodel'. 

When Heather made to follow after the man, she caught Rian's gaze. She smirked slyly as a plan formed. 

"Leo!" she called, deliberately loudly. Continuing in a very audible tone, she explained the current situation. "...and now, we won't have a proper place to store our ingredients! Not like those nifty phials that the set came with." She was practically shouting to her brother across the store. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the shopkeeper fidget nervously. One more push... "We'll  _definitely_ have to tell all our friends to visit that other apothecary. We wouldn't want them to struggle with their ingredient storage too!" The owner looked distinctly panicked now. 

Hadrian, who had caught up with his sister's scheme, snickered a little before joining her and the Professor in picking out the freshest samples. 

Heather peeked up at the Professor, wondering if he would do anything about the blatant manipulation. His expression remained placid, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. She went back to the alihotsy, keeping an ear out for the proprietor. 

Sure enough, the nervous man approached the group a short while later. "Ahem," he coughed awkwardly. "Young lady, I couldn't help but overhear your concerns and I believe it only right for the apothecary to compensate you for the...misunderstanding." Heather almost snorted at the understatement, though Rian was less controlled. "I would like to offer you these complimentary phials with stasis charms to store your ingredients," he said, holding up a box of twenty crystal phials. 

Heather kept herself from reacting outwardly. "There's really no need for you to worry for your friends. We will immediately sort out this minor inconsistency," he tried again placatingly. 

Heather hummed in consideration. "Well, since you say so," she smiled brightly, " Thank you for your prompt response to my concerns. I'm sure this was just an isolated incident."

The man smiled weakly in response. "Of course, I'll leave you to your business." He then beat a hasty retreat. 

"What a sweet man," Heather remarked gaily, before bursting into giggles with her brother. 

Even the stoic Professor smirked a little. "My, how very Slytherin of you, Miss...?"

"Lyra," Heather stated. "Slytherin?" She tilted her head questioningly. 

The Professor looked mildly taken aback before explaining, "One of four houses in Hogwarts. Slytherin, house of snakes, for the cunning and ambitious. Ravenclaw, house of eagles, for the studious and intellectual. Hufflepuff, house of badgers, for the loyal and diligent. And..." he grimaced in distaste before continuing, " _Gryffindor_ ," he all but sneered, "house of lions, for the reckless and foolhardy."

Heather couldn't resist teasing the man. "I see Gryffindor is a clear favourite. Isn't it, Professor?" He simply scoffed and continued picking through the zebra grass. She shared an amused glance with Rian under the tall wizard's nose. 

"Well," Hadrian piped up, "Lyra's a Slytherin, definitely. That, or Ravenclaw. She could live within the pages of a book."

Heather pouted and retaliated. "And you,  _Le-o_?" She dragged out the syllables of his name teasingly. "My dear, foolhardy little lion," poking him lightly in the side as she said so. 

"Break it up, children," the Professor stated dryly. "Now, a good sample of porcupine quills is..." He proceeded to teach the siblings how to discern the animal-based ingredients. They went back to diligently picking ingredients, pausing only for the occasional question. 

Eventually, they finished the list. Holding up the filled phial of rat spleen, Heather looked inquisitively at the Professor. He nodded slightly. "Adequate." Somehow, that felt almost like glowing praise from the exacting man. 

Heather beamed at the stern man. "Thank you very much, Professor Snape! We've learnt a lot today. I'm really looking forward to the actual lessons!"

The wizard just gave a baleful look and snapped, "One student in my classroom that is not totally pathetic will only do good for my mental health. Purely self-preservation." Then, with a curt nod he promptly left the store. Well, that was...abrupt. 

Hadrian shrugged and walked to the counter muttering, " _There's_ one Professor I won't be angering..." Heather concurred. 

She wondered, as she paid for her goods, if all good potioneers were sardonic bastards, or if the Prince and Professor Snape were the exceptions. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, Severus finally makes an official appearance! (The Prince doesn't count) He might seem a bit more friendly than expected, but it's because he doesn't realise that the siblings are Potters and Heather displays a degree of aptitude for potions, which he would appreciate. 
> 
> Hopefully he wasn't too out of character!


	9. Choosing and Being Chosen

Magic swirled so thickly in the air that Heather had to force herself to take slow, deep breaths. It was almost suffocating. Long rectangular boxes were piled carelessly in all corners of the room while some were stuck halfway into shelves lining the wall. She looked around; there wasn't sign of anybody else in the shop. 

"Ahh, it was about time you showed up."

Heather jumped and spun around. Standing there was a wizard staring at her with unnervingly focussed eyes. 

"Mr Ollivander?" Heather ventured a guess. 

Nodding distractedly, the wandmaker commented, "Miss Potter and Mr Potter."

Heather's eyes widened and she darted a glance at her brother. Hadrian shrugged helplessly and shook his head. So the enchantments on the cap were still working. How did Mr Ollivander pierce through them?

The eccentric wizard seemed oblivious to this exchange and continued on, "I remember when your parents walked into this very shop, as if it were just yesterday! James Potter favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable, excellent for Transfiguration. Now, Lily Potter - of course, she was still Evans back then - paired with a ten and a quarter inch willow wand. Swishy and good for Charms."

Hadrian was listening raptly to this bit of information on their parents. Heather felt a pang of grief. Rian had never really gotten to know their parents. She resolved to talk more about them, no matter how painful she found it. 

At this point, Mr Ollivander started rummaging amongst the scattered boxes. "Now, let's get you your first wand, eh?"

Shoving one into Heather's hands, he said, "Try this one, ten inches, pine, rather springy." He frowned heavily and shook his head. "No." He snatched it back before Heather even gave it a little twitch. 

"Ash, eleven and a half inches, stiff." It was pulled out of her grasp again.

"Nine inches, cedar and pleasantly firm." An explosion sounded. 

"Twelve inches, willow." Some sparkles flew. "Hmm, close...but still not right."

The wizard muttered under his breath and looked through another pile. "Ah hah! This one, I can feel it!" he shouted triumphantly. Gently, he handed the wand to Heather. "Ten and a half inches. Laurel with unicorn hair core. Just a mite bendy."

Heather held the wand reverently. It warmed comfortably in her hands and her magic sparked excitedly. She didn't even need to try it - she _knew_ this was hers. Nevertheless, she gave it a little flick, channelling her familiar magic through this new tool for the first time. A shower of confetti erupted from the tip of her wand. It felt so different from her wandless magic, but it also felt  _right_. 

"Interesting. _Very_ interesting," Mr Ollivander mused airily. 

"Sorry? How so?" Heather questioned. 

The wandmaker smiled mysteriously. "The laurel joined with the unicorn hair will produce some...intriguing effects, to say the least." 

Heather frowned thoughtfully at her wand. "What does it mean, then, that I got this wand?"

He hummed lightly. "Each wand is different, Miss Potter. And every wand is paired with the person they suit best. I say that, of course, but really, it is the _wand_  which chooses the wizard or witch."

"It rather felt like we chose each other, actually," Heather refuted mildly. 

The man just chuckled, still with that maddeningly cryptic look. "7 Galleons please."

~~~

"That was brilliant! What do you think my wand will be? D'you suppose I'll take as many tries as you?" Hadrian was still raving about their trip to the wand shop, even after the whole walk to the Leaky Cauldron. 

Heather listened with half an ear while pondering on the odd encounter. What did Mr Ollivander mean by 'intriguing'? She would have to look up on wands. Didn't Rian buy a book on wandlore back at the secondhand place? Perhaps the answer to her question could be found in there. 

Heather was brought out of her thoughts by the arrival of Professor McGonagall. "Miss Potter, Mr Potter," the Professor greeted curtly. "Glad to see you two completed your shopping without trouble."

Hadrian nodded eagerly and mentioned a few interesting books they had bought. He went on to fire off a few questions while they ordered their dinner. The Professor answered all the questions patiently, seeming to enjoy Hadrian's bubbly nature. Eventually, during a lull in the conversation, the Professor enquired, "I notice you didn't purchase a familiar. Most young witches and wizards tend to be very excited to find one to bond with. Did you two encounter any problems procuring yours?"

Heather barely managed to keep from grimacing when she was reminded of the discussion she'd had with Rian. He'd been enthralled with the idea of an owl or a dog, especially after learning about Familiar Bonds. She had hated disappointing him, but it was necessary. 

"Our Aunt has severe allergies." She left it at that. 

Rather, Heather refused to inflict the Dursleys upon any other living being. Petunia didn't even feed Heather and Hadrian properly. How would a pet be treated in that household?

Professor McGonagall just gave a sympathetic look and went back to her stew. And that was the end of that discussion.

~~~

Standing next to the fireplace, they said their farewells. "I'll be seeing you come September then, Miss Potter. Remember: Platform Nine and Three Quarters at King's Cross Station." With that last reminder, the siblings were urged through the floo. 

Once again stumbling out of the fireplace, Heather was saved from another embarrassing tumble only by Hadrian's quick reflexes. She quickly righted herself, ignoring her brother's teasing smirk. 

"Good evening Mrs Figg. Thank you for letting us use your floo."

Sitting in the midst of all her cats, the woman (recently revealed to be a squib) smiled warmly at them. "My pleasure dearies," she said and stood abruptly. "Sit, sit! I have some fresh apple pie somewhere around here."

"Oh, that's alright. We've just eaten," Heather demurred. "We really should be heading back. Our relatives will be returning any minute now."

The cat-loving woman just tutted and sent them off with the whole pie. 

~~~

The siblings quickly snuck back into the house and cleaned themselves up. The bland normality of Privet Drive was a harsh contrast to the colour and vibrance of Diagon Alley. They were both still lost in their thoughts when they locked themselves back into their cramped cupboard. 

"Heather?" Hadrian's sombre tone snapped her out of her reverie. 

"Yeah, Rian?" Heather answered, wrapping her arms around her brother. 

Hadrian snuggled closer and began, "It'll be alright, you know. When you go to Hogwarts, I mean." His grip tightened briefly before continuing, "I'll learn how to get food like you do and I'll use my magic to avoid getting hurt." He leaned back a little to look straight into Heather's eyes. "So don't worry about me, okay? Go to Hogwarts and learn lots of magic. Ace all the classes. Write letters every day."

Quiet sniffles were the only sounds heard for a while as Heather tried to stop crying. "I'll be the first in all my classes and I'll write at least three pages of letters every day," she promised when she finally collected herself. She took a deep breath. "And to do that I'll need to study. Pick a book and I'll read it to us," she whispered in forced teasing. It worked - Hadrian rolled his eyes and groaned but did as asked. 

"Hogwarts, a History. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was founded in the 10th century by four very powerful wizards and witches..."

The siblings read until they fell asleep hours later, not even noticing the Dursleys' return. Both dreamt of a majestic castle with a large hall overlooked by the heavens. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From Pottermore:
> 
> 'It is said that a laurel wand cannot perform a dishonourable act, although in the quest for glory (a not uncommon goal for those best suited to these wands), I have known laurel wands perform powerful and sometimes lethal magic. Laurel wands are sometimes called fickle, but this is unfair. The laurel wand seems unable to tolerate laziness in a possessor, and it is in such conditions that it is most easily and willingly won away. Otherwise, it will cleave happily to its first match forever, and indeed has the unusual and engaging attribute of issuing a spontaneous lightning strike if another witch or wizard attempts to steal it.'
> 
> 'Unicorn hair generally produces the most consistent magic, and is least subject to fluctuations and blockages. Wands with unicorn cores are generally the most difficult to turn to the Dark Arts. They are the most faithful of all wands, and usually remain strongly attached to their first owner, irrespective of whether he or she was an accomplished witch or wizard. Minor disadvantages of unicorn hair are that they do not make the most powerful wands (although the wand wood may compensate) and that they are prone to melancholy if seriously mishandled, meaning that the hair may 'die' and need replacing.'


	10. Interlude: Professors' Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little bonus to try out different POVs. Hope you enjoy!

A severe elderly witch swept into the room and took her customary seat to the right of the head of the table. Nodding primly at her employer and colleagues, she began to speak. 

"Apologies for the slight tardiness. I just sent two muggle-raised students home after their Diagon Alley supply shopping."

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, an aged wizard with twinkling blue eyes and a long white beard, replied cheerily, "No worries, Minerva. How are young Miss and Mr Potter?"

That caught the attention of the three others in the room. Filius Flitwick, the cheery part-goblin Head of Ravenclaw and Pomona Sprout, the kindly and affable Head of Hufflepuff both looked eager and curious. In contrast, Severus Snape, the stern and foul-tempered Head of Slytherin huffed in annoyance. 

Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor, wanted to roll her eyes at the Slytherin's reaction. Honestly, that man... "They're absolutely wonderful children. They look so much like their parents..." she trailed of wistfully. "Miss Potter looks just like her father at first glance, but she's definitely her mother's daughter. She has Lily's beautiful eyes and bone structure. Her temperament is also all Lily's."

Severus Snape's heart gave a violent lurch, though his expression remained unchanged. After all these years, even the slightest mention of Lily Evans (for she would forever be an Evans to him) still caused him agonising pain. He didn't need the Potter brats coming to Hogwarts and dredging up unpleasant memories. Wasn't it enough that he tortured _himself_ over it? ( _N_ _o, nothing would ever be enough for what he had done._ ) He couldn't decide whether to curse or cheer - inwardly, lest he gave Minerva a heart attack - the fact that the older spawn purportedly possessed greater resemblance to Lily than Potter.

Minerva, oblivious to his emotional upheaval, proceeded to drive the stake in further. "Young Mr Potter, on the other hand, is a more even mixture of his parents, appearance-wise. His hair is a copper-red shade. Darker than Lily's but definitely not the jet-black of James' hair. His eyes are a...louder green than Lily's." Her tone showed her disconcertment. Severus was unfortunately well aware of the Potter boy's change of eye colour from Lily's emerald to  _that_ distinct puce colour. It was just another on his list of deplorable sins; that adulteration of Lily's pure, shining eyes. "Though he displayed some of James' mischievousness," Minerva said lightly, obviously trying to cover up her awkward pause. 

A series of groans echoed through the room. While his colleagues looked fondly exasperated, Severus himself scowled darkly. Fantastic. Another horridly spoilt and arrogant golden boy to infest the halls. A miniature James Potter, going about provoking and attacking whomever he pleased without reprehension. And provoke Severus he would. Fooling around uselessly with his Lily-Potter hair and Lily's-but-not-quite-Lily's eyes. Haunting Severus alternately with one ghost that the child would _never_ be able to live up to and yet another one that the brat _could_ \- easily. 

"Which house do you think Miss Potter will sort into, Minerva?" Pomona questioned. The blasted woman! He was very much sick of this topic of conversation already. The others, Albus and Filius, nodded in anticipation. Where had all these asinine queries come from? The Potter brats were mentioned and suddenly the teachers' meeting had morphed into a fishwives' market! It was disgusting how eager they all were. Severus could already see them pandering desperately to the insolent little urchins. 

"Well, Miss Potter showed a fair bit of bravery today. She led her brother around Diagon Alley unsupervised, despite it being their first trip. I wouldn't have left them alone, but as it happens I had some errands to accomplish." The Gryffindor Head smiled proudly at this declaration. The brats had probably been too impatient to wait and decided that they should walk about themselves. Unprotected. In an unfamiliar place. Where any adult wizard could have easily made off with them. Conceited, pampered little morons.  _Gryffindors._

"She's also very willing to learn. She bought at least twice as many books as stated in the supply list! She asked many questions that were rather astute," Minerva directed at the Ravenclaw Head. 

'Marvellous, just what we need - a haughty little know-it-all,' Severus snarked to himself. 

"Additionally, Miss Potter showed a very fierce loyalty to her brother. Can you believe she requested to delay her education by two years just so she didn't have to leave Mr Potter behind? Goodness, she was devastated when I told her she couldn't." The Hufflepuff Head looked pleased that the girl might be in her house. Severus rather believed that the spoiled whelp was just used to getting her way. Oh, it would _so_ gratifying to force-feed the girl the humility and discipline she so sorely lacked. 

Minerva then looked apologetically at him and explained that she hadn't noticed any Slytherin traits in  _darling_ Miss Potter. Was he supposed to be disappointed at this? Rant and rave about the loss of such a _talent_ to his house? He must have made a suitably derogative comment, perhaps even voiced his earlier thoughts aloud, because now Minerva wore the pinched expression she reserved for irksome troublemakers. Really, as if any of Potter's offspring would have even an _iota_ of cunning.

Now, that muggleborn girl at Slug and Jiggers on the other hand...


	11. The Waiting Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for the encouraging comments! Hope you enjoy this chapter. :)

It was odd going back to the routine of serving the Dursleys after everything. Heather felt as if it'd been a whole lifetime since they'd had to make breakfast or mow the lawn or wash the car - even if it had just been two days ago. One marked difference in their whole song and dance, though, was that they both did much more magic than ever before. 

"I need to practise for when you go to Hogwarts,"  _for when you're gone_ , Hadrian had reasoned. Heather didn't have to heart to deny him anything, when so much had been denied to them both. And if Hadrian noticed her using her magic to make sure the Dursleys never caught him at it, he never let on. 

So their days now mostly revolved around magic. Performing sneaky little feats of it by day and then immersing themselves in books by night. 

A week after Hadrian's birthday, which had been celebrated in their usual way with the addition of Mrs Figg's apple pie (the stasis charms worked perfectly), Heather knew they had waited long enough. Thus, after dinner, Heather confronted Petunia and Vernon. 

"I'm going to Hogwarts." There, straight and to-the-point. A statement, not a request. 

It was interesting to see the numerous shades Vernon could turn. White, then green, then red, then purple, white again. Was he actually suffocating? Perhaps an aneurysm. One could only hope. 

Then he backhanded her. 

The force propelled her to the floor and she winced at both the pain and her brother's cry of distress. She _knew_ she should have left him back in the relative safety of their cupboard. She looked up. And saw _red._

 **"DON'T**   **TOUCH HIM!"**

The pig was advancing on her baby brother, fists raised, murder on his face. Heather had never seen him so furious before. She thought that she had known - and felt - the full force of Vernon's rage before (she would have had the scars to show for it if it weren't for magic). Apparently she was wrong. The man looked... _unhinged._

A flashback to another villain, whose weapon of choice had been wood and words instead of belts and blows. 

Without thinking, all the glass items in the house shattered. Petunia and Vernon were literally stunned in the middle of the hurricane of shrapnel. The splinters of glass whipped around their still bodies. Tiny, bloody cuts appeared all over their exposed skin while Heather and Hadrian remained untouched. 

After what seemed like an interminably long time, but was likely only a few minutes, the glass vanished. Belatedly, Heather raised her (fake) wand. Hadrian had made them each fake wands out of twigs since they couldn't use her wand and they didn't want to expose their wandless magic. 

Petunia and Vernon were still rooted to their spots, despite Heather having released her magical hold on them long ago. She was pleased to note that they looked horrified. 

"Now, let's try this again," Heather began pleasantly. "I am going to attend Hogwarts School of _Witchcraft_ and _Wizardry,_ " she said the words with relish, enjoying their flinches, "to learn  _magic_." Ignoring their obvious loathing, she continued, "You will not hit us. You will not touch us  _at all_ ," her eyes darkened dangerously, "You don't bother us, we don't bother you. _Simple._ Unfortunately, we have to stay here until I come of age. In the meantime, if you so much as raise a voice or finger at Hadrian and I..." she let them fill in the blanks. 

Nodding her head in Hadrian's direction, they both raised their 'wands' in tandem. The Dursleys' eyes widened in panic. "Yes, he can do magic too," she said, smirking widely. 

Heather then curtseyed mockingly and they went back into the cupboard. She couldn't resist one last parting shot though.

"Glad to have come to an agreement,  _dear_ Uncle and Aunt."

~~~

Once safely tucked into their cupboard, Heather locked the door tightly from the inside with a generous coat of magic. Then she slumped to the floor, trembling slightly. That had been _terrifying._ For a moment, she'd thought the pig was really going to kill Rian. 

A warm tingling on her cheek brought her back to her senses. Rian was looking at her worriedly, healing what would have been a monstrous bruise on her face. She hadn't realised how much it had hurt until after it was healed. 

Wordlessly, Hadrian helped his sister into their cot. She looked entirely wrung out. 'Because she protected  _you_ ,' he berated himself harshly. His sister had had to shield them  _both_ since their parents had died. He slid into the cot beside her and she immediately grasped onto him. Returning the firm grip, he swore to protect her as well. 

He reached out and grabbed the book that they were currently reading. That night,  _Hadrian_ was the one to read them both to sleep. 

~~~

Heather woke with a start, breathing harshly. She'd been dreaming of That Night since the incident with Petunia and Vernon. She had managed to hide it from Rian - or at least she hoped so. Her brother had lost a bit of childishness that day. While that wasn't actually a bad thing, she silently mourned the loss of even a tiny bit of his innocence. 

The Dursleys had also changed drastically since the _revelation,_ as she'd taken to calling it. They left them mostly locked up now, letting them out only for a few hours in the morning to tend to the garden and for the rare bathroom trip. Heather allowed this, figuring the exercise and sunlight would be healthy for them. Much less food was allotted to them now, though. Of course, the Dursleys didn't realise that they got all the food they needed in the dead of the night. Sneaking out of the cupboard amused her to no end now that Vernon had  _doubled_ the number of locks on the door. Poor fools didn't know that while those padlocks outside the door posed no barrier to Heather and her brother, the numerous locking charms they placed on the inside of the door wouldn't open for them without their command. 

Which is why warning bells started ringing when Petunia slid a tray laden with lavish foods into their cupboard a few days before Heather was due for Hogwarts. 

"Your farewell feast," Petunia stated snidely, though there was a hint of trepidation she didn't manage to hide. She promptly left and 'locked' them up again. 

The siblings didn't even touch the food. Heather recalled a detection spell that was written in the Half-Blood Prince's Charms text that would detect any lacing in ingestible items.  He had written that it was for potions, but Heather figured that it would work on food too. She tried to mimic the spell wandlessly, knowing instinctively that something just screamed _wrong_ about the food. 

When she received the feedback from the makeshift spell (and _that_ was interesting, it felt like the information had been whispered into her mind), she blinked a little. Then she laughed. Hysterically. Hadrian had to shake her a bit and demand to know what was wrong. 

"Petunia's... _farewell..._ wasn't for...Hogwarts," Heather forced out between giggles. 

Hadrian's eyes popped out in realisation. "You mean..." He looked at the tray, then back at Heather again. 

She nodded, amused. "Monkshood. Probably even from the garden outside."

Hadrian wanted to curse. And not just with words either. "The vindictive cow tried to poison us with plants we grew ourselves?"

A rhetorical question if she ever heard one, but Heather nodded anyway. It was a marginally intelligent plan, Heather supposed. For the Dursleys, anyway. They'd given her and Rian the most physically demanding chore and provided scarcely any sustenance. Then they'd waited till they were sure the siblings were ravenous before serving them a bountiful meal so that it would be consumed readily. After that, it would have been a matter of waiting the few hours for the poison to take effect. 

What they  _hadn't_ counted on was the magic that the siblings could easily perform. Heather's earlier burst of violence had been the only time they'd witnessed her performing magic, after all. 

Heather turned to Hadrian with a sly grin. "You have a plan," he said excitedly. Heather's plans were always fun. 

She smirked and banished all the food on the tray, leaving a few scraps to make it look like they'd eaten it. Loudly, she exclaimed, "Oh, Hadrian, that food was absolutely delicious!"

Restraining a chuckle, Hadrian replied just as loudly, "Yeah! I'm so stuffed after finishing all that food." He clinked the utensils a bit for effect.

They only had to wait a few minutes before Petunia came to retrieve the tray. Heather didn't doubt that she had been right outside the door, eavesdropping. She looked grimly satisfied when she saw that it was empty. As she was going to leave, Heather made a remark. 

"Oh, Aunt Petunia? The aconite was a nice touch. I'll have to try it out the next time I cook for you," Heather said innocently. She saw the confusion flit across the woman's face before the door slammed shut. Let Petunia make of that what she would. 

The next two days were filled with a strange tension. On the Dursleys' parts. The siblings, on the other hand, were enjoying the relative freedom their isolation afforded them. They'd since stopped eating anything the Dursleys gave them, doctored as it still was. Instead, they relied solely on their pilfered goods. 

The day when Petunia, hands shaking, handed them their food without any additives, Heather knew that the horse-faced woman had finally found out the alternative name for aconite. Letting the Dursleys believe they were immune to poison would only be beneficial. It had been fun to watch Petunia and Vernon hold their breaths, waiting for them to succumb to the toxin, though. 

Before long, the day both long-awaited and much-dreaded, September 1, arrived.


	12. Of Schooling and Gemini

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally going to Hogwarts, err sort of. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter as well. Unbetaed, so all mistakes are mine.

This was it. Time for Heather to go. If she could stop hugging her brother long enough to leave, that was. What if that pig Vernon tried to hit him again? What if that beached whale Dudley resorted to H Hunting again? What if that horrid, pasty snake Volde-

"Heather, you need to leave before you're late," Hadrian reminded his sister. "Go, I'll be fine. Just remember your promises."

"Right, first in class and letters every day. Okay," Heather said, still standing there. 

Rolling his eyes, Hadrian practically shoved his sister out of the door. A few more reassurances, and Heather finally started off. He waited until she was out of sight before sighing morosely. A good long mope next to his Transporting Chest seemed like a great idea...

~~~

Nervously, Heather stepped through the pillar which acted as an entrance to Platform Nine and Three Quarters. The long journey to King's Cross station by train (the Dursleys would never have deigned to  _drive_ her here) had passed by in no time at all while she brooded. Was this what empty nest syndrome felt like. She would have appreciated the irony of her being the one to actually leave if she hadn't been so down. Rian would have laughed. 

Even the gleaming train that would bring her to Hogwarts held no appeal in her dejected state. She passed by other young wizards and witches hugging their families in farewell and felt her loss keenly. One large family of redheads was particularly eye-catching. A small girl, probably the youngest sister, held on tightly to several older brothers. She looked about ready to burst into tears when two of the boys, looking inordinately similar - probably twins - did something that made her burst into teary giggles instead. 

Great. She missed her brother even more now, if that was even possible. 

Sighing mentally for the millionth time, Heather boarded the train and found an empty compartment to wallow privately in. 

_No_ _!_

She shook her head sharply. Hadrian was expecting a long letter detailing every single interesting facet of her journey to Hogwarts. Self-pity was  _not_ what he wanted to read about. 

She kept that in mind as two redheads crashed noisily into the room. She noticed that they were the identical twins she had seen cheering up their sister earlier. 

"Can we-" the one on the left began.

"-sit here?" the other continued. 

Well. That counted as interesting, right? She shrugged and gave a tiny smile in acceptance. The twins grinned - with eerily similar expressions - and sat down on either side of her. 

"Our names are Fred-" the one on the right said.

"-and George Weasley. What's-" the one on her left continued.

"-your name-" the other said, alternating again. 

"-lil' missy?" they finished together. 

Oh my. That would take some time to get used to. At least she could now identify them. "I'm Heather Potter. Nice to meet you."

Each of the twins took her opposing hand to shake in counterpoint. What a picture she must make, with both her hands crossed and moving up and down in turn. She chuckled at the silliness. 

"So, Miss Heather Potter-"

"-any relation to-"

"-Hadrian Potter, the-" 

"-famed Boy-Who-Lived?"

Heather frowned and resisted the urge to snap at them defensively. "I'm his sister," she said shortly. A pause, then, "That's a horrible nickname."

To her shock, the twins simultaneously shot to the ground in a kneeling position. 

"Oh forgive us-"

"-ignorant fools! You and-"

"-your brother deserve-"

"more  _glorious_ titles, such-"

"-as the Surviving Siblings!"

"The Triumphant Tagteam!"

"You-Know-Who's You-Know-Whats!"

Having had enough, Heather slapped her palms onto the two redheads' mouths to stop the stream of nonsense. She couldn't stop giggling though. Especially at that last one. 

"Ugh...those...names...you two...came up...with...were...even...more...horrible!" she forced out between giggles. "Get up off the floor!" she said, dragging them up by their forearms.  She rolled her eyes when they gave each other a thumbs up. 

Fred grinned at his brother when he saw their new friend laugh. She'd looked so sad as she walked alone towards the train that they'd just  _had_ to cheer her up. As the Kings of Joy, they wouldn't stand for that unhappiness. Seeing a job well done, he gave George a thumbs up.

Oblivious to the twins' thoughts, Heather shyly started up a conversation about their upcoming Hogwarts education. She didn't have any friends and Rian didn't exactly count. So she had no clue how to befriend anyone. In fact, if it weren't for these two, she'd never try to initiate anything with anyone. Their affable and joking personalities made it easy for Heather though. 

~~~

"My favourite colour?" Heather pondered for a while. "White," she decided, thinking of That Night. 

"BO-RING!" the two announced together. 

Her eye twitched. "Doesn't matter!" she refuted. White was for safety. White was for Life. White was for blasting that Wretched Evil Man into oblivion. "And yours then? Is it a suitably  _exciting_ colour?" she asked sarcastically.

"Neon Orange!" they exclaimed in tandem, then glared at each other. 

"Hey, that's mine!" the twins continued in sync. 

"No, it's not!" Still copying each other. 

Butting their heads together, they began to mock wrestle on the floor as Heather looked on, exasperated. 

~~~

"We'll probably be-" George began.

"-in Gryffindor," Fred continued.

"Like all our family," they concluded, nodding. 

"Hmm," she hummed casually, "My parents were Gryffindors too, but I've been told I would make a good Slytherin."

Fred gasped in exaggerated horror while George clutched at his chest dramatically. 

"You mean all this time we've-"

"-been talking to a snake in-"

"-sheep's clothing? Behind those-"

"-sparkling green eyes and innocent-"

"-smile are a cunning villainess?"

Heather simply smirked slyly. 

~~~ 

The train hooted loudly as it stuttered to a stop. Heather blinked at the sudden cessation of movement. Looking out of the window, she found that they had arrived at another station called Hogsmeade station. The ride went by quicker than expected. She hadn't even been moping about her Rian. 

'No,' she realised as she looked at Fred and George, 'it was these two that kept me from sinking into my gloomy thoughts.' A rush of gratitude filled her and she wondered if this was what friendship was like. 

The twins were waiting for her at the door of the compartment. Impulsively, she walked to them and grasped each of their hands in hers. Suddenly bashful, she just squeezed their hands briefly and smiled. At their puzzled looks, she just told them to hurry up and then dragged them out of the train. 

~~~

The castle was  _huge_. And amazing. And beautiful. It was everything she had ever imagined it would be - and more. If she'd thought the magic was thick in Diagon Alley, then she was positively _swimming_ in it here. Heather couldn't wait to explore the whole castle. Though it would probably take all of her seven years here to do it. 

They had to ride boats across the Black Lake to reach the castle grounds. A giant of a man called Rubeus Hagrid (Jus' call me Hagrid) escorted them there. She later found out that she'd been half-right; Hagrid was, in fact, a half giant. 

The three of them shared a boat with another boy called Lee Jordan. Lee, it seemed, shared much of his sense of humour with the twins. They got on like a house on fire. Heather worried that that would evolve into a  _castle_ on fire. 

She learned that Fred and George enjoyed confusing others by impersonating each other. Not difficult to do when they were facsimiles of the other. They seemed to _like_ people mixing them up. She hadn't realised that they'd been trying to do that to her, but with Lee present, she witnessed it from an outside perspective. Okay, she knew why they liked to do it now. It was _hilarious._  

Interestingly, she'd also found out that the twins had a peculiar sense of chivalry. While they'd started rocking the boat at Lee's mention of seasickness, they'd immediately stopped when she stated she couldn't swim. Maybe it was because she was a girl. Or so much tinier than they were. Perhaps both. Regardless, she could see why they would be Gryffindors despite their cunning and wiles. 


	13. A House, a Home, a Heart?

Heather was distracted from the Sorting Hat’s opening song by the enchanted night sky on the ceiling of the Great Hall. As easy as breathing, she picked out Leo from the mass, tracing in her mind the stars that formed the constellation. That was the first constellation she had learned to identify once she picked her Astronomy textbook up. Next, she found Lyra, in which Vega shone brightly. Outshining even Vega, however, was Sirius, the Dog Star. Heather didn’t actually know how she knew that. Perhaps, she’d read it somewhere.

“Avery, Stenton!” Professor McGonagall called out. Snapping out of her scrutiny of the ceiling, Heather looked back at the platform where the Sorting was taking place. “Slytherin!” Loud applause came from where the house was presumedly sitting.

Heather’s attention wandered again. There was still quite some time before her turn. Drifting her gaze to the Head Table, she looked at all the Professors in turn. The elderly wizard sitting at the head was probably the Headmaster. He looked remarkably like what muggles believed all wizards to be. Pointy hat, check. Long white beard, check. Bright and sparkly robes, _definitely_ check. Heather wondered whether he did that on purpose to amuse himself or if the beliefs actually _stemmed_ from him.

The other Professors didn’t really stand out much. They either looked anticipatory or bored. There was a witch in particular who wore a long, gauzy shawl and an excessive number of necklaces and bangles. Her dazed expression gave the impression that she was intoxicated on either alcohol or other substances. Another rather short wizard looked a bit odd. Heather couldn’t exactly place what was different about him, but she thought that he might be part creature.

Finally, the only other Professor she recognised. Professor Snape, the Potions Professor. He looked even more menacing now that school was in session, a feat Heather wouldn’t have previously thought possible. His age (for he appeared much younger than the other Professors) obviously did not detract from his authority over his students. As if sensing her gaze on him, he looked directly into her eyes.

Heather jerked slightly at being caught staring, but she gamely gave the Professor a tiny nod and smile in greeting. He raised a mocking brow, as if to say ‘What are you gaping at, you dunce?’. She quickly turned back to the ceremony, ostensibly because her turn was soon to come. Really, though, it felt like the forbidding man had gone _easy_ on her. Not even a mild glower. So why did she still feel like she had just made a narrow escape?

“Peters, Stephen!” Oh, that was the boy in front of her. “Ravenclaw!” Heather straightened her posture, bracing herself. This would be a horrid time to realise she had stage fright.

“Potter, Heather!” She tuned out the sudden onslaught of murmuring in the crowd. Focussing on Professor McGonagall’s encouraging expression, Heather walked steadily towards the hat.

The worn and dirty pointy wizard’s hat was placed on her head. She wondered how this would work. Was it enchanted to test her aura? Or maybe a few questions would be asked to determine her personality?

‘Ahh, an inquisitive mind deserving of Ravenclaw!’ a gravelly voice suddenly boomed in her mind. Heather fought to hide her flinch of surprise.

‘You’re going to read my mind?’ Heather concluded questioningly. That was slightly worrying.

‘Right-o, Miss Potter! Yes, you would fit in well with the eagles. But, what’s this here? Plenty of bravery and courage as well - protecting your brother against all who might harm him. Gryffindor would be pleased to have you! Hufflepuff could also do well by you, with your diligence and loyalty.’

‘Sooo, which house do I suit best?’

‘Really, you could be in any of those three houses. The one _best_ suited though? Oh ho, you’ll do great things there. Great things! Better make it…’

“SLYTHERIN!” the Sorting Hat finally announced.

There was an awkward stunned silence as Heather made her way to the Slytherin table. When she sat down, however, the silence was broken and uncertain clapping echoed in the hall. The Gryffindors were staring at her with oddly wounded faces. She wanted to scoff at them; just because her parents were Gryffindors didn’t mean she had to be too. Heather made to turn back to look at the rest of the Sortings.

And froze.

Professor Snape was focussed entirely on her, levelling the full force of his glare on her. His dark eyes, which had been teasingly derisive not ten minutes ago, now screamed murder and all sorts of torture. She’d be trembling violently if she wasn’t petrified. An eternity later, he finally released her, turning away in disgust.

Woodenly, Heather watched as Fred and George were Sorted into Gryffindor. Inwardly, her thoughts were churning viciously. Where had this sudden hostility come from? He had _known_ that there was a distinct possibility that she would be a snake. He obviously liked Slytherin a fair sight better than Gryffindor, so was it she herself that he took objection to? Heart clenching painfully, she forcefully pushed it to the back of her mind to ruminate over at a later date.

Absentmindedly, she stood with the rest of the school to hum along to the school song. She noticed that Fred and George were singing it at the top of their lungs. Backwards. The effect was horribly dissonant. Though to be fair, that wasn’t caused solely by them - just exacerbated. Amused, she saw another redhead – probably one of their siblings – clamp their mouths shut.

Spirits lifted marginally, Heather waited for the feast to start. The Headmaster made a short opening speech followed by an odd series of closing words (Piccadilly. Zany. Hunker.) before food appeared out of nowhere.

Roast beef, filet mignon, mashed potatoes, broiled vegetables, baked chicken breast, fruit salad. Heather had never before seen so much food. There were numerous dishes that didn’t even look remotely familiar. Everything looked scrumptious.

Much as she would like to taste all the rich foods that she had never been allowed, she knew her stomach wouldn’t be able to handle them yet. (Stupid Dursleys.) Nevertheless, she eagerly helped herself to the chicken breast and vegetables.

All the other Slytherins seemed to know each other already. They were talking quietly among themselves and shooting her the occasional subtle glance. Heather ignored them all, content to catch up on eight years’ worth of sustenance. Even though she and Hadrian had been sneaking food, bread and cold cuts did not wholesome meals make. She reminded herself to ask a house elf for some leftovers to send to her brother.

Meanwhile, she took a serving of pudding to finish off her meal.

~~~

The dungeons corridors were plunged in shadows. Sconces on the walls provided faint lighting, the flickering candles giving off an eerie glow. Heather shivered as she pulled her robes closer to her body. The temperature down here was dramatically lower than in upper parts of the castle.

The prefect leading them stopped in front of a random part of a wall. He muttered something too soft to hear and a section of the stone suddenly swung open.

Not just random then.

The newly revealed room was slightly warmer than the corridor due to the crackling fireplace. The windows showed a greenish plain view. Upon closer inspection, they actually appeared to be underwater. If she recalled accurately, part of the dungeons ran underneath the Black Lake.

When prompted to, Heather took a seat on one of the plush couches. Sitting next to her was a tall blonde witch who sat up so straight that Heather had to resist the urge to check for a back-brace.

The witch turned to Heather and inclined her head politely, offering a quiet, “Melinda Davies.”

Heather returned to reserved introduction, silently wishing for something, _anything_ , to break the tensed silence in the room. She really had to be careful of what she wished for.

“First years!” A dark figure abruptly swept in from a hidden entrance. Professor Snape’s stern gaze landed on each student, hardening imperceptibly as they glazed over Heather. Or at least she thought so.

“Slytherin,” he began silkily. “House of the cunning and ambitious. We are more intelligent than the Ravenclaws, more diligent than any Hufflepuff and more courageous than all the Gryffindors put together.”

“Unfortunately, our noble house has a smirched reputation among everyone else. As such, Slytherin will present a united front. We will give the other houses no chinks in our armour to take advantage of.”

“This means,” he lowered his voice dangerously, “that you will not show dissent amongst yourselves where others can see you. You will support _all_ housemates, no matter how _disagreeable_ you find them,” his contemptuous gaze flicking towards Heather for a split second. “You will settle all disputes in this common room or it will be in my office. Are we clear?” At the sharp nods, he turned to Heather again.

“Potter!” he spat the word like it was lethal poison. “Cease your moronic gaping. Repeat what I just said.”

With as much sangfroid as she could muster under that unforgiving stare, she repeated his entire speech verbatim.

Professor Snape’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Insolence,” he hissed, “You _dare_ patronise me? It seems our newest celebrity deems it appropriate to give cheek to her superiors!”

“N-no sir! That wasn’t my intention. My apologies, Professor Snape.” Heather cursed her minor stutter.

The wizard’s mouth curled into a cruel smile, enjoying Heather’s slight weakness. He then turned his head dismissively, designed to convey that she was below his notice. Heather had definitely received that message.

She carefully paid attention as her new Head of House gave instructions regarding administrative details. She didn’t put it past the man to single her out again. She wouldn’t be wrong on that account.

~~~

When Heather first saw her room (“Snakes are solitary creatures,” the Professor said shortly.) she paused at the doorway. The Professor had said a _small_ room. This room…this room was more luxurious than anything she had ever had. There was a bed – an _actual bed_! – a small desk to write on, a functional wardrobe – and did she mention a _bed_? Granted, it was much tinier than either of Dudley’s bedrooms, but certainly a step up from the Cupboard Under the Stairs. She was so shocked that she hadn’t stepped into her – really _hers! –_ new room.

“What is the matter, _Princess Potter_?” that cutting voice drawled. “Is this room _offensive_ to your delicate sensibilities? I am afraid you will have to manage with these _meagre_ resources.”

Had she really believe Professor Snape to be scary back at Slug and Jiggers? That was him being affable! She quickly entered her room and locked the door, adding her usual locking spells and then some.

Heather shook her head roughly to dispel all thoughts of the Professor. She had more important things to take care of right now.

“House elf? I require some assistance please,” she tentatively said aloud to the empty room.

Which was suddenly not-so-empty anymore.

A tiny creature with large bulging eyes and floppy ears appeared with a crack. “Can Mipsy be helping yous, Miss Potter?” The elf’s eyes were shining eagerly, awaiting her orders.

“Were there any leftovers from the feast earlier? Could I possibly have a few portions if there are any?” Heather felt apprehensive about asking it of the obviously servile creature, but at least she seemed happy.

Mipsy nodded rapidly, saying in her squeaky voice, “Yes, yes! There be many foods not eaten! Miss Potter is too thin. Miss Potter should be eating more!” With a snap of her fingers, packs of food enough for at least four people appeared in her hands.

“Oh!” Heather exclaimed at the suddenness. “Thank you so much, Mipsy! Would it trouble you too much if I asked you to do this every night?”

The elf was tearing up now. Fearing that she had overstepped her bounds, Heather tried to take back her words, but Mipsy spoke first. “Kind and wonderful Mistress Potter! Mistress Potter needs not be thanking Mipsy. Mipsy be honoured to serve Mistress Potter!”

Heather smiled weakly at the naked adoration on Mipsy’s face. “You don’t have to call me mistress, just Heather will do.”

To her horror, the house elf started to bang her head on the solid stone walls, exclaiming that it would be terribly rude to use _Mistress Potter’s_ first name.

“No, no! Stop hurting yourself, Mipsy!” Heather’s hand fluttered uselessly about the distraught elf. Desperately, she said, “I’ll be _very_ happy if you called me by my first name. In fact, all the house elves here should.”

Mipsy stopped immediately, keen to do anything that would make Heather happy. Looking shyly up at her, the little elf said, “Mistress Potter likes Miss Heather?” Heather nodded firmly. “Miss Heather wants all elves to call Miss Heather, Miss Heather?” Another nod. “Mipsy shall be doing that! Good night Miss Heather!” Mipsy said before popping away.

With a huge sigh, Heather collapsed onto her bed (and she still hadn’t gotten over the novelty of it). She hadn’t known dealing with house elves was quite so tiring. She smiled; another thing to write to Hadrian about.

She quickly unshrunk her trunk and took out her Transporting Chest. She put the food in first. Rian would be ravenous by now. The chest glowed and the food disappeared. Satisfied that it had been safely delivered, Heather began to write her letter.

_Dearest Hadrian,_

_I’ve just settled into my new room - I actually have a bed, can you believe it? I wish you could be here with me. How are you? The Dursleys haven’t tried anything have they? I know you can protect yourself, so please do._

_I met the most comical boys on the Hogwarts Express today…_


	14. The Freedom to Be

It was still dark out when Heather woke. She went to create some light before hesitating. She picked up her wand from the desk. She would have to remember to use it when casting in front of others.

Her laurel wand warmed welcomingly in her palm. This would be her first time using it, so she carefully enunciated a soft, “ _Lumos_ ,” while envisioning a glowing white orb. Her magic seemed to be drawn from within her towards her wand, unlike when she had to guide it outwards from her core herself.

Excited by the new sensations, Heather alternated between _Nox_ and _Lumos_ a few times. The more she used her wand, the easier it became. She was less tired after using her wand than she would be without. Perhaps it also acted as an amplifier. Or was it the concentration needed to nudge her magic outwards that made wandless magic more tiring?

She shelved these ponderings and attempted another spell. The _Tempus_ told her that her internal alarm had woken her at her usual half past five despite her late night exchanging letters with Rian. She sighed, looking wistfully at the wonderfully soft and warm bed. Would she ever break that habit? Probably not; it had saved her from too many beatings over the years to be stopped now.

Shivering, Heather slipped out of her room to the communal toilets. At this early hour, there wasn’t anyone else in sight.

The gleaming showers beckoned, persuading her to indulge in a heretofore rare treat. The steaming water was a far cry from the hurried washing she was used to back at Privet Drive.

Reluctantly, she stepped back into the chilly air. She stared in distaste at the ‘clothing’ she’d brought along. The threadbare cotton t-shirt and tattered shorts were wholly inadequate for dealing with the nippy dungeons.

Wand in hand, she transfigured the rags into something more appropriate. Dressed now in a woollen sweater and plain jeans, she felt much warmer. Definitely transfiguring all her other ‘clothes’.

Another wave of her wand told her that she still had an hour till breakfast was served. She decided to take a stroll around the castle in the meantime. Putting on her robe, she exited the common room.

~~~

As expected, the castle was empty at six in the morning. The moon still hung high in the sky, throwing murky shadows across the corridors.

With a small _Lumos_ leading the way, Heather walked through the hallways. Already, she had found several hidden nooks and empty, disused rooms. Memorising a few to seclude herself in if needed, she started for the Great Hall.

The Point Me spell was really useful in getting around the castle. Heather easily found the Great Hall by following her wand. She wondered if she could do this wandlessly.

The tables were mostly bereft, with just a few Professors and Ravenclaws in attendance.  The others students would probably arrive later – breakfast had _just_ been served, after all.

Heather quietly seated herself in an unobtrusive corner of the Slytherin table. The food was as plentiful as it was last night, if not as lavish. She ate a simple breakfast of pancakes and fruit before standing to leave.

If not for her quick reflexes, she would have bumped into the figure standing directly behind her. Startled, she muttered a reflexive apology and looked up into aggravated black eyes. Did she mention she was _extremely_ thankful for her reflexes?

“Your lesson schedule,” Professor Snape stated curtly, shoving a scroll of parchment into her hands. “Your health check-up is scheduled for next Tuesday, 4pm at the infirmary. Endeavour to be punctual-“ he cut himself off, probably to bite back a harsh insult. He then swept away, black robes billowing impressively behind him.

Heather tucked away both the scroll and her hurt. She was fine – it was nothing unusual in her interactions with adults. And Dudley.

The schedule was fairly typical. At least from what she remembered of her own short-lived schooling days. Since today was a Saturday, she was free to spend her time however she wished. Within Hogwarts’ grounds and rules, of course.

~~~

A few rays of light filtered into her room through the single underwater window. While the water caused the light to fall in beautiful patterns, the relative darkness was a little too reminiscent of the cupboard for Heather’s tastes.

While she had initially intended to sit in her room and read a few books, the warm sunlight outdoors proved too inviting to ignore.

That was how Heather found herself propped up against a large rock near the Black Lake, reading a book on obscure magical creatures.

It was when she finished the chapter on yetis and was moving on to yuki-onna that a pair of callused hands clasped over her eyes.

She instantly went on high alert. She had been so engrossed in her book that she hadn’t paid attention to her surroundings. Her magic had been prepared to lash out when her assailant spoke.

“Guess who?” a cheeky, _familiar_ voice said.

Heather’s mind finally caught up with her paranoid reflexes and she relaxed, thankful that she hadn’t loosed her magic immediately to defend herself. “Fred, don’t do that! I could have hexed your hands off.”

He finally removed his hands from her eyes, moving into sight. “Wrong! You lose, I’m George! Besides, we haven’t learnt any hexes yet. Heck, lessons haven’t even _started_.”

Heather ignored his jibe; she’d already read all the first year textbooks. She was more concerned with her mistake. “Where’s your brother?” They were easier to differentiate when side-by-side.

“Here I am!” the other twin exclaimed, popping out from behind the large rock she had been inclined against.

Looking between the identical redheads, Heather frowned, perplexed. “Did you introduce yourselves as…yourselves back on the Hogwarts Express?” She could have sworn that Fred was the who covered her eyes…

The twins nodded. They usually did – for first meetings, at any rate.

Rolling her eyes, Heather said, “Then I apologise. I hadn’t realised that you wanted to exchange names today.”

At exactly the same time, they both gave faux innocent expressions. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you,” Heather pointed at the twin who had snuck up on her, “were Fred yesterday, though you’re apparently George today.” She went back to her book, oblivious to her companions’ stunned looks.

“No, no. Heather-“

“-you must be mistaken!”

Not even looking up from the paragraph on yuki-onna mating rituals, she intoned dryly, “Am I really,” making it clear that she didn’t think so.

“Yes!” they stated decisively. Heather didn’t bother arguing.

After a brief silence, one of them (she couldn’t tell them apart by their voices yet, and she didn’t want to stop reading her book) said, “Anyway, we came looking for you to see if you’d like to explore the castle with us,” the other nodding along.

Casting a quick time spell, she replied, “There’s an hour till lunch, so why don’t we wait till we’ve eaten to explore?”

“And whatever shall we do in the meantime?” a twin asked in a lilting tone.

“Well, I’m almost done with my book,” Heather replied absentmindedly while turning the page to the zaltys, relatives of nagas.

To her dismay, the book was plucked out of her hands. “I know!” George announced, ignoring Heather’s earlier statement. “We’ll teach you some prank spells and you’ll teach us some cool spells that you know! Like that neat spell you just did.” Both twins had manic looks of glee on their faces.

“Oh no, I won’t be complicit in any trouble you two get into,” Heather protested fruitlessly.

“Oh come on Heather-harp!” Fred wheedled.

“Yeah, Heather-harp, good one Gred!” George said.

Heather tried to cut in. “Actually Lyra means lyre, which-“

“And where do you get-“

Apparently she wouldn’t be getting any say in this.

“-words like _complicit_ anyway? Do you-“

“-read dictionaries in your spare time?”

Heather _had_ , actually. Dudley had thrown a lot of them at her and Rian both. What better resource could she have used to learn? She wasn’t about to admit that though and took her wand out of her sleeve. “Well, what are you two _procrastinating_ for? _Brandish_ your wands and let’s _commence_ with our _erudition_ ,” Heather said deliberately.

She ended up teaching them the _Tempus_ , as promised, in addition to the Summoning charm and Colour-Changing charm. She shuddered at the hijinks they could get up to with those. They had ample imagination. On the other hand, what _did_ they think she would do with a Water-Balloon-Pelting spell or a Beard-Growing jinx.

~~~

Lunch at the Slytherin table was the same stiff formality she expected. Although, she thought she had seen a few discrete _looks_ when walking into the Great Hall with the twins in tow. The famed Slytherin-Gryffindor animosity wasn’t exaggerated, then. She casually shrugged them off. She was stranger to neither heated glances nor icy disregard.

She steadfastly refused to contemplate why her Head of House’s gaze of utter scorn was the exception.

~~~

The trio finished lunch quickly, in no small part due to the twins’ impatience. They had sloppily shovelled their food into their mouths, packing away their substantial meals in just five minutes.

Normally, Heather was a quick eater. Or rather, she had had to be. She took much longer with this meal though. Partly because she was hungry and ate more, and partly because she was in a teasing mood. They looked hilarious standing behind her, giving her identical pleading looks. She had been looking forward to finishing that book.

By mutual agreement, they’d stuck to neutral territory. None of them wanted house rivalries to interfere. Thus, the three set out towards Ravenclaw Tower.

Fred and George skipped along the hallways like mischievous puppies on their long-awaited walk. They saluted at the suits of armour, chatted up all the portraits and generally acted like rambunctious children on a sugar-high.

Following at a more sedate pace, Heather was in a less playful mood. Perhaps this was what Hadrian would have been like if Papa had lived to raise them. Of course, Mama would have had a grounding influence to temper their antics. Maybe one day Heather would be able to tell the two budding pranksters all about Papa and the Marauders.

Heather was forced back to reality by Fred pulling her into a narrow and secluded hallway. Apparently, George had found a hidden room by leaning on one of the busts.

She took the room in in its entirety. Not difficult to do, since it was pretty small. It was totally bare – just four walls, the ceiling, the floor and a window. What was really impressive, though, was the aforementioned window. It was made of glass and huge, spanning almost the whole wall. Since the tower was situated at one of the far corners of the castle, they were treated to a breathtaking view of nearly the entire castle grounds.

“ _Wow_. If this is the view you get to see every day, I’m really envious. There’s not much to see from the dungeons,” Heather spoke softly as she stepped closer to the window. Even the Black Lake could be seen from here.

“Nah, Gryffindor Tower isn’t as high up as Ravenclaw,” one of them said. She couldn’t be bothered to turn away from the view to see who.

Before they realised, the had day passed and dinner was being served in the Great Hall. They rushed and made it there in time, but their thoughts were still on the time they’d spent in that room.

That night, Heather wrote all about what she’d seen to Hadrian. She would buy a camera, she decided. Some things just couldn’t be described in words.


	15. The School Bell Rings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there folks. Here's another chapter for you guys! I just want to thank all of you for your encouraging comments! Enjoy!

The first week of school flew by in a blink.

Charms was taught by the diminutive Head of Ravenclaw. Professor Flitwick was a cheery teacher who was happy to demonstrate a few spells when asked. Heather had even gotten house points for a question on Charms theory. Apparently, what she had initially described as her magic not ‘sticking’ for long to objects was because charms weren’t permanent, unlike transfigurations.

Transfiguration classes were slightly more lecture-based since the students needed a strong grasp of theory before attempting any spells. Professor McGonagall really amazed Heather with her animagus transformation though. Heather immediately went to the library to find books on Animagic.

Defence Against the Dark Arts, or DADA for short, was taught by a fairly odd Professor. Professor Wilson was pretty competent in tutoring defence theory, but his spells always seemed to go wrong. Thankfully, his mistakes were mostly harmless. He had a rather bizarre fascination with selkies though. Heather decided that self-study would be the best course of action for this class.

Herbology was one of the classes that Heather shared with the Gryffindors, and thus the Weasley twins. She had to keep them from provoking the Devil’s Snare before they got hurt, but otherwise classes were enjoyable. Heather was enthralled by the magical plant species like the Sopophorous Plant or Gillyweed. Professor Sprout had been more than willing to provide a few cuttings of shade-loving plants for Heather to cultivate in her room.

History of Magic was… _different._ Professor Binns was an _actual_ ghost and his lessons were as dead as he was. Heather had been severely disappointed, having anticipated the class. She began blatantly reading her own history materials after the first lesson. At least she wasn’t sleeping like the others in class.

Astronomy was another class with plenty of sleepy students. Not only because it was wholly theoretical, but also that it was held at midnight. Heather found it intriguing though. The positions of the planets and moon heavily affected the efficacy of certain spells and rituals, not to mention potion ingredients.

One of Heather’s favourite classes was Flying. It had seemed scary at first, to be dependent solely on a piece of wood to remain airborne. She took quickly to it, though. Madam Hooch had called her a natural. Racing with Fred and George was particularly enjoyable. They said she was a whiz on a broom. She just thought that her small size was more aerodynamic, which she then had to explain to the two.

That just left Potions. Heather supposed the lessons could have been worse. Honestly, with how abhorrent the Professor seemed to find her, she had expected him to be an ogre in classes. Apparently, he took the ‘Slytherin Unity’ thing very seriously. He never _outrightly_ targeted a Slytherin, choosing instead to devote his ire to the Gryffindors. That didn’t mean he treated her well, _oh no_. The snubs were simply subtler.

Though Heather’s potions were arguably one of the best in class, he ignored all her efforts and deliberately praised the Slytherins sitting near her. Even if their potions were substandard. _Especially_ if their potions were substandard. She _still_ didn’t know why Professor Snape seemed to suddenly detest her very existence. At least with the Dursleys she knew why.

Besides all the classes and essays and readings, Heather also had her check-up on Tuesday. She did her best to heal some of her more incriminating scars. She didn’t think the long scars running down her back could be considered innocuous in any circumstance. Fortunately, her injuries had mostly mended without scarring once she had learnt how to heal using magic. Her scrawny state couldn’t really be helped though. Her appetite was still smaller than it should be.

Thankfully, her efforts paid off and she passed muster without triggering any warning bells. Though she was quite a fair bit underweight, she wasn’t dangerously so. Madam Pomfrey asked her to return every month for a weight check. Heather was so relieved to be cleared that she agreed readily.

~~~

It was currently Saturday and the twins had once again dragged Heather away from breakfast at the Slytherin table. She could see a trend forming already.

“Where are we headed, Fred?” Heather asked the twin on her right.

George, to her left, was the one who answered. “Why, Heather-harp, to Hufflepuff Basement of course!”

How cute, they were still trying to confuse her. “Thank you, George,” she answered intentionally. They tried not to react. _Tried_ being the keyword.

“Rumour has it that the entrance to the kitchens is a stone’s throw from the Hufflepuff common room,” Fred said brightly, trying to change the subject.

Heather took pity on them and accepted the diversion. “Do you suppose we’re allowed to ask for food directly from there?” Perhaps then Mipsy wouldn’t have to trouble herself by bringing Hadrian’s food to her rooms nightly. The Hufflepuffs weren’t very far from the dungeons, after all.

“Yeah!” the twins exclaimed.

“That would be great!”

“We could bring lunch to our room-”

“-in Ravenclaw so that we don’t have to-”

“-go to the Great Hall!”

“We could stay in our room the _whole_ day!” they concluded excitedly.

How long would they be content to spend their weekends sitting around in a room? They didn’t seem the kind to remain passive for long. When they started getting bored of just plotting and learning spells, Heather supposed she would be left in the room herself.

“Well, we’ve got to peel our eyes if we want to find the hidden entrance!” Heather said with forced cheer. She would cross that bridge when she got to it.

~~~

Heather, Fred and George had searched high and low all over the basement and were no closer to locating the kitchens.

Heather sighed tiredly and tried their last resort.

“Point Me Hogwarts kitchens!” Her wand just spun uselessly in circles.

Frustrated, Fred tried, “Point Me Hufflepuff common room!” If they could just find the general location… The spell failed again.

“It’s evident that these rooms were warded to prevent unauthorised students from accessing them,” Heather stated uselessly.

“Cheer up, Heather-harp!”

“Yeah, we can try again next time!”

Heather smiled and nodded. “If only we knew at least which corridor it was located in…” she trailed off ponderingly.

What if…? Brandishing her wand again, she pronounced, “Point Me corridor outside Hogwarts kitchens!” There was a slight pause before her wand swung to point to the left.

“Brilliant!” George and Fred exclaimed, enveloping Heather in a bear hug.

The three friends followed the directions given by the wand till they reached a short hallway. The walls were lined with several paintings, most of them depicting food.

“Maybe we need to give a portrait the password?” George suggested, thinking of his own house’s common room.

“Which portrait? There are so many!” Heather asked.

“Probably the largest. The others are too small to conceal an entrance,” Fred said, pointing at a huge painting of a fruit bowl.

Heather and Fred started saying possible passwords to try their luck.

“Gluttony?” Heather ventured.

“Buffet!” Fred tried.

“Too many chefs spoil the broth.”

“Kiss the cook.”

Meanwhile, George inspected the painting. He ran his fingers over the frame and the picture itself. Maybe there was a button somewhere. Sliding his fingers over the grapes, he brushed up against the pear. Wait. Did it just…

“Hey guys, check this out.” George repeated his actions.

“Did that pear just… _giggle_?” Giving his own chuckle, Fred tried it out, giving the sensitive fruit a firmer tickle.

As the pear gave a loud peal of full-blown laughter, the portrait swung open to reveal its hidden room. They’d found it!

Giving a low bow, Fred said, “Ladies first.”

Heather smiled graciously. “Of course. George?” she said, indicating that he should precede them.

The twin in question fluttered his eyelashes and said in falsetto, “Thank you kindly,” before stepping through the portrait-hole.

As the three students entered the kitchens, they saw that it was overrun with house elves. They were all scuttling about, busily doing their assigned tasks. In the throng, Heather spied a familiar face.

“Mipsy! Hello there.”

The little elf turned towards Heather and smiled happily.  “Miss Heather and friends! What can Mipsy be doing for yous? Has Miss Heather’s food been okay?”

Gesturing to each twin in turn, Heather introduced them. “These are Fred and George Weasley. Fred, George, this is Mipsy. I asked her for some help our first night here.”

Turning back to Mipsy, she said quietly, “The food was delicious, thank you. I hope I haven’t troubled you too much.”

Fred and George looked confused, but they didn’t ask. Hopefully they would forget about this exchange.

“Not at all Miss Heather! Mipsy be glad to help! Would Miss Heather and friends like some tea?”

As if on cue, three stomachs grumbled hungrily. Heather blushed lightly and nodded at Mipsy. They had been so focussed on their search that they had missed lunch.

An hour later, filled with beef sandwiches and pumpkin juice, the trio waved goodbye to the house elves and left.


	16. Stirring Emotions

It was now well into October. Heather was ahead of her lessons, up to second year, in fact. She’d explored more of the castle with the twins. Her foxglove was blooming beautifully. Hadrian was doing fairly well - as well as he could be at the Dursleys’, anyway.

And Heather was miserable.

Fred and George had detention every weekend until the end of November for turning all the Ravenclaw firsties’ hair bright blue. (Heather should probably have seen it coming when she taught them that charm.) Heather didn’t have many ( _any_ ) friends outside of the Weasley twins, so she spent the weekends alone in their room.

The Slytherins were becoming more overt in their ostracism of her, spurred on by their Head of House’s obvious resentment. Nothing happened in public, but all bets were off in the common room. The first years had once ganged up to attack her. After wiping the floor with them using just a mass _Stupefy_ , they stuck to snide taunts and jeers. Heather researched more specialised locking spells and wards for her room following that incident.

Professor Snape himself was becoming increasingly unbearable. Although he couldn’t exactly go to the common room and hex her, that wasn’t much of an obstacle for him. His weapon of choice was much slyer. Total apathy. Outwardly, at any rate. He acted like she wasn’t even there. While the other Slytherins received helpful comments and corrections on their essays, hers were returned pristine, without even a grade written. As if he hadn’t even bothered reading them. Her hand was never picked in lessons, whether for a question or answer. This was especially grating because she had many, many questions from her extra readings. He was ruining what would have been Heather’s favourite subject. Of course, the rare times he _did_ come to the common room for whatever reason, she made sure never to be there. She’d learnt her lesson after that first time. She didn’t much fancy being totally debased.

October also reminded Heather of Samhain. Which brought to mind her parents. Voldemort. Green light. Death.

And Heather _desperately_ missed her baby brother.

To curb her loneliness, she’d tried going flying, but she kept looking behind her to see if Fred and George were keeping up. She’d tried writing more to Rian, but in her mood, she just felt his loss more keenly.

Heather sighed for the umpteenth time and opened her trunk. Maybe that book on fairytales would cheer her up. Rummaging around for it, her hands landed on another tattered book instead.

_Property of the Half-Blood Prince_

Oh, she had totally forgotten about these books! She recalled that they had really funny and informative notations. This would probably lift her spirits a bit.

Heather settled down to start reading Maddison’s _A Guide to Healing Potions_ , already starting to feel better.

~~~

The following weeks were easier to bear. She was still alone, but the Prince’s comments made it seem like she had a friend with her. Usually, she pictured an older boy (somehow, the sharp writing didn’t seem very feminine) with dark hair and a sarcastic smirk sitting next to her and critiquing the _bumbling fools_ who wrote those books. He would make his smart-aleck remarks while she laughed and agreed. Even when Heather read other books, her mind would conjure the Prince’s voice giving harsh corrections and witty insults.

This made Potions infinitely more tolerable. Even when Professor Snape complimented Octavius Bulstrode on his failed potion. It was difficult to feel slighted when she could hear the Prince’s voice in her mind making snide comments.

‘ _Fantastic_ work, Mr Bulstrode. That stunning shade of puce is _obviously_ better than the typical sky blue hue that is characteristic of the Boil Cure that us mere mortals brew.’

Or,

‘Excellent use of the blunt edge of your knife, Mr Bulstrode. Your onions are so very finely mangled. Points for _absolute_ thoroughness.’

Needless to say, Potions had, in spite – or even because – of Professor Snape, become her favourite class.

In the current Potions lesson, the Professor assigned them to make a Blister Cure – a Boil Cure derivative. The instructions in the book were remarkably vague and Heather was only familiar with the brewing process because of her extra readings.

When Heather had made a move to stop George from adding the crushed garlic all at once, Professor Snape did something completely shocking. To the snakes, at least

He acknowledged Heather’s presence.

“Mr Weasley,” he stated menacingly, “do you take my lesson as a canoodling session with Miss Heather Lyra Potter? Get back to work and stop behaving like the hormonal monkeys you are!”

Heather quickly released George’s hand and went back to her simmering potion. She doubted that the Gryffs had noticed, but the Professor had included Heather in the insult, exactly as he’d meant to.

She slowly added the final ingredient (porcupine quills) while going over the words in her head again. It was odd, hearing the Professor use her full name. As usual, he spat out ‘Potter’ in complete disgust. She had heard that enough times that first night. What struck her, though, was the strange lilt his voice took when pronouncing her middle name. Her first wasn’t said with any particular vitriol. She had learnt early on at Privet Drive to listen to the subtle differences in tone when the Dursleys spoke. It had often meant the difference between starving and not.

What did the man have against ‘Lyra’… Oh. Heather’s mind made the connection, even as she ladled her potion (the exact shade of cerulean) into a vial for marking. She would speak with Professor Snape after the lesson.

~~~

“Hey, Heather, aren’t you coming? It’s lunch,” one of the twins asked, gesturing to the lab doors.

“Go on ahead, Fred,” Heather said with a shooing motion, “I’ve got some questions to ask the Professor.”

With a doubtful look on his face (the twins knew how badly the Professor treated their friend), he walked out. “If you say so. And I’m George!” He left before Heather could voice her sarcastic reply.

Taking a deep breath, Heather turned around to face her doom- err, Professor. He was sitting at his desk, evaluating the class’ potions.

Mustering her courage, she started speaking, “Professor Snape?” She now fully understood why the Sorting Hat had said that she could have been a lion.

“Well, spit it out, Potter! I am much too busy to spend time pandering to your pathetic needs,” he said nastily, not even raising his eyes to look at her. She couldn’t decide if this was a blessing.

“You mentioned that any conflict between Slytherins could be hashed out in your office. I was hoping your classroom would suffice,” Heather said as respectfully as she could.

He looked at her. She decided that she _much_ preferred the lack of eye contact. “Finally giving up your saintly act, Potter? Very well, to whom did you commit heinous acts?”

Heather took another deep breath. “Actually,” she began stiltedly, “I would…like to apologise…to _you_ , sir.” At his quirked brow, she hurried to explain.

“For lying about my name, I mean. At the apothecary that day. I wasn’t sure why were suddenly so angry with me and this is the only reason I could think of.” The man’s face remained carefully neutral.

“It was just safer for me and my brother to be anonymous. Hence we used our middle names. I’m really sorry for lying to you!” Heather apologised sincerely when she realised the Professor was about to speak.

“Listen here, Potter, you arrogant big-headed brat! Do not presume to understand my thoughts. Have you considered that I simply detest your very _existence_?” the ticked off wizard growled.

Heather flinched minutely at the hate she could feel pouring off of him in waves.

_‘We just hate that you exist, FREAK!’_

She continued to stare into his glaring eyes and asked the same question she had when she’d been younger.

“ _Why?_ ”

If possible, the Professor grew even more incensed. “ _Why?_ Because your _father_ was the same; a self-absorbed imbecile who cared not one whit for anyone else! He was a pathetic excuse for a person, _just like you_!”

Heather could feel herself pale and she knew her hurt was reflected in her eyes, but she _still_ refused to look away. Suddenly, she understood. “James Potter,” she said quietly, “was a bully in school. He callously hurt many with his juvenile cruelty. I know that. However,” she paused slightly, “my _Papa_ ,” she emphasised, “was a changed man. It doesn’t excuse what he did, but he was truly repentant about everything he did in his youth.”

Voice steady, she said, “I cannot apologise for his actions, for it isn’t my place to. However, I _can_ relay the apologies that he couldn’t in his stead.” She spoke firmly, meaning every single word. In a way, she could understand where Professor Snape was coming from. If the Dursleys ever apologised to Hadrian and her, her first reaction would likely be to spit in their faces. The Professor had more self-control than she did. Especially if what she suspected was true.

Empathy aside, she would not be his scapegoat. She got enough of that from the Dursleys who thought that every unfortunate thing was to be blamed on the _freaks_. “I am _not_ my father,” Heather said determinedly.

She waited patiently for him to respond. She didn’t she had ever seen him at such a loss for words before. He wore diction and rhetoric like his black robes. Familiar yet intimidating.

“Get out.”

Heather startled slightly at the abrupt dismissal. She hesitated.

“Did you not hear me? I. Said. GET. OUT,” Professor Snape roared, his voice increasing in volume.

Scrambling backwards, Heather knocked into the desk benchtop behind her. The Professor looked terrifying. He was paler than usual – and was he _trembling_?

Stepping forward again, she held her arms out in a reassuring gesture. “Are you okay, Professor? Maybe you should take a seat.”

The room started shaking. Things were rattling on the shelves and the glass vials were in serious danger of shattering. Professor Snape’s magic was swirling wildly around him. She had to calm him down before he hurt himself.

Softly, Heather began to hum a lullaby. She did this whenever Hadrian had a nightmare and Mama had done the exact same for her. She hummed louder, infusing some magic into the tune.

Slowly, the quaking stopped and the Professor visibly collected himself. She stopped the lullaby and whispered, “I’ll just be going now, if you’re okay, Professor?”

He stared almost-dazedly at her for a while, his eyes studying her face. “You may go,” he said, equally softly. That was the most civil he’d been to her since school had started.

Heather gave another concerned glance at the Professor and the damaged items on his desk before leaving the classroom.

Out of the Professor’s sight, she dashed the short distance to her room in the Slytherin dorms. Mercifully, everyone was at lunch and she didn’t encounter anyone. She didn’t think she’d be able to handle seeing any of the other snakes right then.

The wards on her door unfolded at the touch of her magic. She slammed the door shut behind her before leaning tiredly against it. Running a hand over her face, her palm came away dripping in red. So _that’s_ what the Professor had been staring at. Alarmed, she gingerly felt her face again, finding several shallow cuts. They wouldn’t cause _that_ much bleeding…

Heather sniffed at the crimson liquid, relieved to identify most of it as ink. Right. The inkpot had been lying in pieces on the desk. The shrapnel and ink must have landed on her face.

With an absent wave, the mess was cleaned. Another wave and the cuts disappeared.

Well. That had gone well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully, that went alright. I tried to think of how to trigger Severus' change of heart. Then I went 'heck this'; Heather would totally confront him. She might be Slytherin, but there's a Lion in her as well. This will make much more sense when you get to read Severus' POV in chapter 18. I promise it's coming.


	17. Give and Take

Professor Snape hadn’t turned up for lunch that day. Or dinner. Or any of the meals the next day. Heather was worried. She didn’t have Potions class, so she hadn’t seen him since that talk they’d had.

After dinner, Heather walked determinedly to the dungeons. She made a left turn instead of the right which led to the common room and knocked on the heavy oak door.

“Enter,” a low voice stated irritably. At least he sounded like his regular irascible self.

The Slytherin Head was sitting at his desk, marking essays. He glanced up at the opening of the door and tensed imperceptibly.

“Miss Potter,” he said stiffly, “is there anything I may assist you with?”

He seemed to have recovered from the episode, except for the uncharacteristic courtesy. “Just wanted to check if you were feeling better, sir,” Heather answered, allowing her concern to bleed into her voice. She didn’t want to risk coming across as mocking.

“Your worries are unfounded,” he snapped. Ahh, there it was. “As you can see, my… _lapse_ had no lasting effects.” He was staring fixatedly at her face as he said the last few words.

She realised what he was looking for and obligingly said, “Nothing a simple spell couldn’t fix, Professor. No lasting effects here either.”

His eyes narrowed. “Madam Pomfrey did not inform me that you had gone to her.”

Heather smiled wryly. “Like I said – a simple spell,” she repeated. “ _Episkey_ ,” she stated as further proof. She was grateful that she knew _actual_ healing spells, courtesy of the school matron. Those monthly visits weren’t just spent checking her weight.

The Professor seemed to want to avoid arguing – a first, surely. As such, he made no more mention of the subject. “Unfortunately for you inept adolescents, I remain alive and snarling. Now, you should leave. Surely you need all the time you can spare to maintain those grades of yours,” he said dismissively.

Heather almost gaped. Was that insult or…? She smiled brightly and said, “Thank you, sir! Speaking of which I have several questions regarding potions. May I schedule some time to come back?”

He gave that penetrating stare. He was looking at her a lot today. She hadn’t realised how much he had avoided her eyes until now. “Next Wednesday,” he finally allowed.

Still smiling radiantly, Heather left the office while mentally listing all the questions she’d been unable to find the answers to.

~~~

“Hey Heather?”

“Yes Fred?” Heather hummed distractedly from where she was proofreading George’s Potions essay. “Remove this part – there’s no such thing as an Eyeball Exploding Potion,” she murmured to George.

“What’s your brother’s favourite colour? I know yours.”

“Blue, sapphire blue, to be precise. Why?”

He waved the letter in his hands. “Mum wants to know.”

Heather rolled her eyes at the nonsense George had written. She _knew_ he was doing it on purpose. “Rewrite it, George! I didn’t spend all that time tutoring you guys for you to get Trolls!” Turning back to Fred, she repeated, “Again, why?”

The boy shrugged. “She didn’t say, but I can guess.”

While Heather gave a puzzled look, George looked up from his essay and piped in, “Must be for a sweater.”

Nodding, Fred said, “Yeah, Mum knits sweaters for everyone at Christmas.”

She blinked dumbly. “Christmas sweaters? For me and Rian?”

“Uh huh. You’re our bestest friend-” George said casually.

“-and you talk so much about your brother-” Fred continued.

“-that it feels like we know him well too,” they completed together.

The Dursleys usually just gave them coal. It would have been far kinder to not have given anything at all rather than purposefully gifting them horrid gifts. But now…a _real_ Christmas present. A hand-knitted sweater.

“You’re my very bestest friends too,” Heather said in a bid not to sob.

The twins gave her matching unimpressed looks, as if she’d just made a redundant statement. Maybe she had.

“I got you the greatest present ever!” George announced. Heather started in shock.

“Except for mine, of course,” Fred said, smiling smugly, “Mine’s the best present you’ll ever get!”

George glared at his elder brother while Fred smirked at him in challenge. That was enough for George to tackle him and give him a violent noogie.

While the twins were occupied, Heather was panicking inwardly. Presents! That meant that she had to reciprocate! Where would she get them? _What_ would she get them? She knew zilch about the season of giving! All she’d ever given Hadrian were stolen sweets and she didn’t think those were exactly appropriate.

“What do people give for presents?” Heather asked casually. “In the wizarding world, I mean,” she added hastily.

Without breaking from their scuffle, they answered, “The same as muggles, probably. Things people would enjoy.”

Great. That was _immensely_ helpful. They weren’t even allowed out of school to shop for presents. Unless she bought them during the Yule Break itself. But then she would only be able to give her presents when school started again.

Heather looked around the room, trying to simply appear bored. Really, though, she was trying to avoid the twins’ gazes – they were unexpectedly (or not) shrewd.

Oh look, the bare stone flooring had tiny bits of white in them…

~~~

The weeks leading up to the Yule Break passed by in a flurry of activity, for Heather at least. She hadn’t known how difficult thinking of and preparing gifts could be. Between researching the requisite spells and sneaking around the twins, she barely had time to relax. She also exhausted herself keeping up the strong disillusionment in their room so that the twins wouldn’t catch an early peek of their present. So when the last day of term arrived, she was ridiculously grateful.

“Hurry up, Fred and George!” Heather exclaimed impatiently.

“Chill, Heather. You’re fast for a little sprite.” George mock panted as he caught up with her.

“Yeah, where’s the dragon?” Fred rolled his eyes.

Stopping outside their room, Heather turned and shyly said, “I’m giving you your presents early. It can’t be wrapped.” She relaxed slightly when they exchanged gleeful looks. She’d been worried that they wouldn’t be happy with that.

“No complaints about getting a gift early from us!”

“Err, but where’s our room? The door isn’t here ‘nymore.”

Heather smiled sunnily. “That’s part of the present. Place your hands here for a minute,” she signalled to a seemingly random spot on the wall, “Good, now hold still.”

George and Fred watched with undisguised curiosity as Heather waved her wand in a few slashing motions and muttered a few sentences in Latin. They both shivered when a wave of heat passed through them.

Their curiosity turned to amazement when the stone wall shifted to form a door, not unlike the entrance to Diagon Alley. Both stared, flabbergasted, at the newly-revealed entrance. Heather looked at them expectantly and proclaimed, “Welcome to the Den!”

When it became apparent that they wouldn’t be snapping out of their daze anytime soon, Heather jabbed Fred sharply in the ribs. They both jerked and yelped in protest. Hmm, interesting…

“Go on inside! The door’s not going to bite.”

They reached for the door and it swung open on contact. Heather nudged them none too gently into the room and followed after. Nervously, she waited for them to do something other than their statue impressions.

“Well?” she snapped worriedly, “What do you think?” They didn’t look very happy. “Do you guys like it?” Slowly, they shook their heads. Heather felt her face crumple in disappointment and opened her mouth to apologise.

Then Fred and George turned around and shouted, “We love it!”

“How did you do all this?”

“Is this where you’ve been sneaking off to?”

“It looks amazing!”

“Best present ever!”

Heather chuckled in relief. They liked – no, _loved_ – her gift! She regarded the room with pride. There was a large cherry wood table in the centre of the room surrounded by three wing-backed chairs. A large plush couch sat facing the large window. Trails of honeysuckle wound around a trellis fitted to the frame of the window. A corner of the room had been converted into a mini potions lab, with a tiny fire pit and benchtop. All in all, the room was a far-cry from the completely bare room they had found three months ago.

Settling comfortably on the sofa, she watched the twins prod at the new additions. She would have to thank Mipsy again for her directing her to the rooms with abandoned furniture. All the effort she had put into repairing the furniture, setting up the wards and cultivating the stubborn honeysuckle was worth it.

~~~

“Wake up, Heather!” Hadrian bounced excitedly around the cupboard. “It’s Christmas!”

Heather blinked sleepily and tugged her energetic brother back onto their tiny cot. She placed a light kiss on his forehead and mumbled, “M’rry Christmas, Rian.”

Heather was once again back in the Cupboard Under the Stairs at Number 4 Privet Drive. Hadrian had jumped on her almost as soon as she’d arrived. He looked much healthier, no longer stick-thin. He had even grown a little. She supposed regular meals would do that to a person. They’d spent most of their time cuddled together (not much of an option, what with the space they were allowed) and talking. No matter that they had exchanged daily letters, it was no substitute for actually being together.

“Don’t you wanna open your presents, Heather?” Hadrian cajoled.

“Rian, it’s not even five yet.” At his pouting look, she gave in. “Okay, okay. I’m up.” He cheered and retrieved the presents from her trunk.

There were only a handful of packages, certainly much fewer than the haul Dudley was sure to get again this year. Nevertheless, they were immensely grateful; this was the first time they had anything to unwrap.

“Here, open this one,” Heather said, handing one of two lumpy presents to her brother. She opened the other one and promptly put it on.

Eyeing her brother, she saw that he too was swathed in the large woollen sweater. His was a beautiful sapphire blue with a white ‘H’ in the front. Hers was exactly the same in inverted colours.

“Wow, this is really warm. Mrs Weasley knits really well,” Hadrian said as he snuggled further into the comfortable material. Heather nodded her agreement and gestured to the remaining presents. Both were neon orange with sparkly silver ribbons.

Each of them reached for one to unwrap. When Heather saw the contents of her box, she gasped in delight. A short note accompanied the gift and she read it out for Rian.

_Dear Heather_

_Don’t harp at us about spending too much on the present. We just fixed up an old one Dad had lying about the house._

_Happy Christmas!_

_Gred and Forge_

 

Heather picked up her gleaming wizarding camera with reverent hands. She noticed that someone (probably Fred), had inscribed on it a pattern of tiny white heather flowers.

“Oh, this makes much more sense now,” Hadrian said, holding up a book. “It’s a never-ending photo album.” The cover of the album had the same heather pattern embossed on it. There was already a picture of the twins wearing Santa costumes inside it.

She carefully set the camera and album down to admire later. They had two more presents left. She beckoned her brother over and handed him a plain leather-bound book and a wooden box.

She pointed to the box first. Rian opened the clasps carefully and gasped at the contents. Rows upon rows of tiny phials filled with liquids of varying colours filled the box. He picked one up to look at more closely.

“They’re basic nutrition potions,” Heather answered her brother’s unasked question. “I tried to make them taste like various desserts but the book says the downside is that it really lowers their effectiveness. Hence the number of phials.”

Hadrian peered closer at the potions. They were carefully labelled ‘pumpkin pudding’, ‘chocolate cake’, ‘vanilla ice cream’ and many more. His eyes lit up in anticipation.

“Only one per day, Rian,” Heather said firmly, “At _most_. And they’re not substitutes for actual meals either.” Her brother pouted but agreed.

Heather indicated the book next. “Flip it open, Rian.” Eagerly, he turned the cover over. Pages and pages were filled with the nightly letters the siblings had exchanged the past few months. The letter log read like a book, detailing their thoughts and experiences these past few months.

Facing his sister, Hadrian said wetly, “You collated all our letters into a book? You _kept_ all my letters?”

“Of course I did! And you did too; how do you think I made this?” Heather said, waving to the book in question. “You can add future letters to the book using magic.”

Hadrian hugged his sister and thanked her enthusiastically. “Thanks, Heather! This is the greatest Christmas ever!”

The second photo in the album was of the Potter siblings, both wearing matching sweaters and beaming smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, so we see that Severus is somewhat nicer to Heather now. It seems abrupt, believe me, Heather thinks so too. But when you read the next chapter in Severus' POV, you can read all the thoughts he had about that confrontation and why he's had an about-face. 
> 
> Thank you for your patience, I know you guys have been looking forward to the next chapter!
> 
> Once again, I appreciate all the supportive comments!


	18. Interlude: Through Onyx Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally here! The chapter detailing Severus' thoughts and feelings about his various interactions with the Potter siblings, Heather especially. Hope you enjoy.

Severus Snape, Head of Slytherin House, stared drolly at the line of miscreants waiting to be Sorted while his colleagues clapped excitedly for every brat who walked onstage. He wanted to sneer at them all. Honestly, there was nothing at all to cheer about. They were just another batch of incompetent children too self-absorbed to understand the art of his chosen calling.

His mental tally of first year Slytherins reached seven with the Sorting of Murdoc Mulciber. Looking over his new charges, he saw the apprehension and nervousness they hid behind veneers of haughtiness. Life would be difficult for them in the most abhorred house of Hogwarts.

Severus was snapped out of his introspection by a niggling sense of awareness. He turned to the source and caught sight of the girl he had met at Slug and Jiggers. _There_ was another Slytherin candidate, though he didn’t believe her bright openness was quite suited for a house as hated as his was. No matter the cunning she possessed, he hoped that she would be Sorted elsewhere. As a Slytherin muggleborn, she would be ostracised by both her housemates _and_ the school at large.

The girl had the audacity to nod and smile at him. The reckless brat didn’t seem very intimidated. Perhaps she would be a Gryffindor after all. He held back a shudder. Well, he couldn’t have that. He gave her a _look_ , one designed to fill feeble-minded fools with self-doubt and anxiety. The girl blushed in embarrassment and made a gallant attempt of casually shifting her attention to the Sorting.

“Potter, Heather!” Minerva announced.

For a moment, Severus lost his carefully sculpted neutral expression and gaped unbecomingly. Then he felt his fury building. Potter! The little chit was _Potter’s_ spawn! _Lyra_ , she had introduced herself as. She was a lying, cheating wastrel like her useless scum of a father. (He stoutly ignored that Lyra was the girl’s middle name.)

If the girl was Potter’s elder brat, then the other boy Leo – no, Hadrian Potter – was the dratted Boy-Who-Lived! Such a pretentious moniker; as if the brat’s head wasn’t inflated enough already. How had he _not_ recognised the Potter boy? His mug featured regularly in the Daily Prophet after all.

Severus tried to recall the boy’s appearance to no avail. That was ridiculous; he had spent at least two hours with the brats. He reigned in a disgusted growl at the thought. It must have been a disillusionment charm. That blasted Minerva must have cast it before letting the beasts loose. However, a disillusionment would have masked his presence entirely, not just his physical appearance. A variation perhaps. He felt his rage escalate at the deception.

Then the girl had the sheer nerve to look at him. He gave her the most menacing glare he could muster, putting the full force of his loathing behind it. The girl froze like a statue. Excellent. Thought she could fool him, did she? Make old _Snivellus_ the butt of her jokes, just like her cowardly father and his goons.

Well, he would see what a foolish little girl could do against a talented adult wizard.

~~~

Severus swooped down the aisle like the bat he knew his students called him. He scowled fiercely at a Gryffindor who managed to make her potion give off green fumes. “15 points from Gryffindor for utter idiocy and 10 points for ruining your assignment!” he barked out and banished the potion. That would be an immediate Troll for Bell, he noted with wicked glee.

Disgusted by the sheer stupidity of the Gryffindor first years, he turned to his Slytherins. They, at least, appeared to be at the correct brewing stage. He narrowed his eyes. Except for the girl. She was absolutely _infuriating_.

The girl’s potion was finished already, in record time. The colour was perfect too, not a shade of difference to his reference one. And this happened in every. Single. Lesson. She was frustratingly competent in Potions. It took away his one reprieve of slapping her with a failing grade since he couldn’t visibly target one of his own snakes, loathe as he was to have her in his house. She wouldn’t make him break that tenet – tempted though he was.

Even her essays were adequate. The one thing he had been sure of her failing at, due to the laissez-faire attitude she obviously shared with her father. He couldn’t even assign her anything lower than Outstandings due to the random checks made by the school governors.

His only recourse was to ignore her entirely. She put her hand up in every lesson, no doubt to ask an inane question or to say something impertinent. He refused to give her the opportunity to disrupt his lessons.

In fact, he suspected her angelic act was designed solely to provoke him. The blasted chit was for all intents and purposes the model student. Not only in Potions, but every other subject as well. Severus imagined that the terror got an inordinate amount of enjoyment from rubbing that in his face. ‘What was that you said about incompetent dunderheads?’ he could just hear her gloating.

So help him, if Severus had to hear another person extol _Precious Potter’s_ many virtues one more time…

Minerva: Oh, Heather is _such_ a gifted young witch. First time I ever saw a student perform such a seamless transfiguration on their first try! You’re so lucky you have her in your house, Severus! Now, _that_ was unexpected.

Filius: My, Miss Potter certainly has a head on her shoulders! Did you know she brought up Pennifold’s Enchantment Saturation Theory in her essay the other day? That’s fourth year material! Sure you didn’t bribe the Sorting Hat, Severus? Would be mighty Slytherin of you.

Pomona: The girl’s a green thumb if there ever was one. Happiest plants in the class. She asked for a few cuttings to raise in her rooms, you know. So diligent, that one. I still maintain that she should have been a Puff.

If they wanted the brat that badly, they could have her! Severus always had to repair his classroom after these Praise Potter sessions.

~~~

“Go on ahead, Fred. I’ve got some questions to ask the Professor.” Damnation. What did the little monster want? Certainly not questions about the Blister Cure; her potion was as irritatingly flawless as usual.

Severus pretended to mark the fourth year essays, putting on his most focussed expression. (A most spectacular feat for the worst work he had seen in a long while.) If he was lucky, maybe the wretch would be too cowed to disturb him.

“Professor Snape?” He cursed inwardly. He never had been the most fortunate of souls. Spitting out a barbed retort, he continued to ‘mark’ the atrocious ramblings of Hufflepuff fourth years.

_Crab apples are used in Strengthening Solution because of the stronger skin that they give when consumed, not unlike the hard shells of their planters, the flower crabs._

He delighted in the large red ‘T’ he scrawled all over the page.

He finally looked at the girl, certain now that he could manage the impulse to wring her scrawny neck. So the girl wanted to soothe a few ruffled feathers? He wondered who she had managed to hassle this time. Of course, this could be about that skirmish in the common room. She was here to voice her injustice then. Oh, _poor_ Potter ganged up on by her housemates? She wasn’t even the one to leave the incident injured.

“Actually…I would…like to apologise…to _you_ , sir”

‘Oh, for what, pray tell? For being a vexing detestable brat? For being the daughter for your waste-of-space of a father? For _existing_?’ Severus thought acidly. He settled for raising his eyebrow. The faster the wench finished her piece, the less likely he was to be called out by Albus for inflicting grievous harm on a student.

Potter proceeded to ramble on about their meeting at the apothecary. And Severus remembered.

A little girl with bright ( _green)_ eyes that lit up at his demonstration on flobberworm dissection. Of whom he had thought, ‘Ahh, this here is a student who will understand the delicate art of brewing. One actually worth teaching.’ Then she had gone and revealed herself to be Potter’s spawn. Even from the grave, James Potter mocked him. Claimed the girl who could have been his protégé, his one crowning glory in an otherwise lacklustre teaching career. Oh, the rage _burned_.

“Listen here, Potter, you arrogant big-headed brat! Do not presume to understand my thoughts. Have you considered that I simply detest your very _existence_?” He relished in the flinch his words elicited.

The damnable girl then persisted and asked why rather than run off in tears. Seeing her stand her ground with a stubborn look, Severus saw, for a moment, shorter hair and thick black glasses framing a smug expression.

Why? He would tell her why. Because she took after her egoistic, selfish, hypocritical, bully of a progenitor. That’s right, Golden Boy James Potter was nothing but a spineless degenerate who prowled around targeting innocents. See how the brat took that. Would she burst into sobs like the little girl she was? Or would she puff up indignantly at the perceived slight against her beloved father?

He would never have anticipated the girl’s actual reaction.

She looked pale, yet she held herself steady. She was still speaking, but Severus had long since ceased paying attention. All he could here was _‘truly sorry’. ‘Regret’._

_‘I am not my father.’_

No. **NO.** James sodding _Potter_ did not get to apologise. What did he know of remorse? People like him did not deserve absolution. Not for all the hospital stays. Not for all the humiliation. Not for… _Lily._

Severus thought he shouted at the wretch to leave. He didn’t know. He didn’t _care_.

Memories flashed.

_‘Hey, SNIVELLUS!’_

_‘It’s more the fact that he exists, y’know?’_

_‘Greasy bastard should just go off himself.’_

_‘Stop it, you toerags!’_

_‘ **MUDBLOOD!’**_

Faint humming filtered into his awareness. Another flashback.

_A red-haired little girl ran across the playground and flung herself into his arms. Severus panicked and held onto her._

_“Why are you crying?” He didn’t know how to comfort anyone!_

_“Petunia called me a…f-freak today,” the girl sobbed miserably._

_Severus didn’t know the words to say. Awkwardly, he patted her back and hummed softly. His Ma sang this lullaby to him when he had nightmares._

_Eventually, the girl’s sobs turned into tiny sniffles and then stopped entirely. “That’s really nice. You have a soothing voice,” the girl said, breaking into one of her heart-stopping smiles. “Thanks Sev.”_

Lily…

Severus looked up when he heard a soft whisper. And was sucked into wide green eyes.

For the first time since the apothecary, he saw bright emerald eyes instead of tousled black hair.

Then he saw the blood. The girl’s face was dripping with it. Tiny lacerations littered her cheeks. And still she was gazing at him with concerned green eyes. (How had he ever seen even a shred of Potter in her when she was so clearly Lily’s girl?) Bile rose up his throat. Had he done that?

“You may go,” he managed to choke out. Who knew what other monstrosities he would commit if she stayed longer with him?

Severus knew he would be dreaming of accusing green eyes and crimson blood in the weeks to come.

~~~

Sitting at his desk and attempting to finish his fourth year essays, Severus tried – and failed – to not think of why he was not already finished with them.

After the girl had left (marred with injuries he had inflicted), a tumbler of scotch and two destroyed classrooms had gone a long way in calming him down.

He had obviously been remiss in his assessment of the girl. He could admit – if only to himself – that he had wronged her by treating her as the second coming of her father. Whatever defective genes that had made Potter was clearly not present in the girl. She was obviously her mother’s daughter. Lily’s daughter. She had Lily’s temperament, he could recall Minerva saying.

There was a knock on his office door. As if his contemplations had summoned her, there she stood. Now that he was looking clearly, he realised that she looked every inch Lily’s.

“Miss Potter,” Severus made an effort to say neutrally, “Is there anything I may assist you with?” If it was because of her wounds from yesterday, then she had made a wasted trip. No one could punish him more severely for injuring Lily’s child than he himself.

The girl surprised him once again. “Just wanted to check if you were feeling better, sir.” She had that little furrow in her brows that Lily had when she was fretful. Her eyes ( _so green_ ) darkened slightly like Lily’s had.

Unable to help himself, he rebuffed her irritably. She had inherited Lily’s loving heart. Sentiments Severus would never be deserving of. He thought back on the red he had painted onto her face.

The girl seemed to have gotten Lily’s perceptiveness as well. “Nothing a simple spell couldn’t fix, Professor. No lasting effects here either,” she assured him. Resourcefulness was another trait she had received. Medimagic wasn’t taught at Hogwarts.

Lily, Lily, _Lily_. Every facet and aspect of the girl seemed to radiate Lily.

She eventually left his office, having very thoroughly convinced Severus of her resemblance to her mother. Getting him to acquiesce to anything had always been exclusively _Lily_.


	19. Snakes and Lions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there folks! Back with another chapter! 5-6 chapters before Hadrian goes to Hogwarts, so bear with me. I think I ramble on too much. Anyway, thanks to everyone who commented and I hope you enjoy this chapter. :)

Saying farewell to Rian this second time was every bit as difficult as it was the first. Heather didn’t know how she would endure a year and a half more of this. At least he had a larger repertoire of defensive magic now.

Heather met Fred and George on the Hogwarts Express. “Thank you for the camera, George, and the album, Fred,” she said, hugging them both. “They really were the best presents ever.”

They both had smug grins before they realised exactly what she had said.

“How do you know-” George said, confused.

“-who got you what?” Fred asked incredulously.

“That’s a se-cret!” Heather sing-songed. “I notice you two didn’t object when I identified you by name.”

She laughed at their sputtered protests.

~~~

Heather stared at them. The large winged horses looked fearsome, with protruding ribs, leathery hide and reptilian features. _Thestrals_. The carriages were pulled by thestrals.

“Creepy, ain’t it,” Fred stated.

“Yeah, carriages that pull themselves,” George added.

Heather’s eyes clouded over in grief when she remembered. Thestrals could only be seen by those who had witnessed and accepted death.

_‘Not my baby!’_ Green light. Body crumpled to the ground.

Ignoring the twins’ identical confused glances, Heather cautiously approached one of the equines. Slowly, so as to not spook the skittish creature, she raised a hand and petted it.

“Heather?”

“Thestrals. Winged horses that are only visible to those who have seen death,” Heather whispered solemnly. Fred and George sobered at the implication.

The ride was spent in contemplative silence.

~~~

The package sat innocently on her bed. Yeah, right. There was nothing _innocent_ about a strange package from an unknown person inside her dorm room. It could be a malicious prank by Avery – he seemed like the type.

With a thought, the object levitated off her bed. Stretching out her senses, she probed the item. It didn’t _feel_ bad. Thus, she cautiously unravelled the wrapping.

A strange silvery material was revealed. Heather blinked in confusion and read the note that fell out of its folds.

_Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well._

Heather narrowed her eyes. That wasn’t suspicious _at all_. Nevertheless, there didn’t seem to be any harmful spells on the material, so she picked it up.  It appeared to be a cloak of some sort made of a shimmery fabric. It was exquisite, but why would Papa want to give this specifically to her? Curious, she put the cloak on.

And promptly got the shock of her life.

The parts of her body that were covered were now invisible. An invisibility cloak? So _this_ was how Papa had gotten away with all his pranks.

Heather shuddered as she imagined what Fred and George would get up to with this.

~~~

As expected, the twins created more trouble than the last term with help from the cloak. They still got a record breaking number of detentions, though, since everyone _knew_ that they were the culprits.

On the bright side, Heather had gotten picture after picture of them in various mortifying positions because of Mr Filch’s detentions. There was one of them cleaning up glitter in the Great Hall. Using toothbrushes. On their hands and knees. Covered in pink sparkles. She had sent _that_ one to Hadrian.

Her fellow Slytherins were as awful as usual. It didn’t bother Heather much; she just made sure to be alert when she was alone in the dungeons. It helped that her wand couldn’t be stolen. (Fred and George had been...shell- _shocked_ , shall we say, when they had tried to pick her wand up.)

All she had to endure were the spiteful taunts and glares. She had to admit that they were better at them than the Dursleys were.

Rhianna Rowle had once made the mistake of calling Mama a ‘mudblood bitch’. Rowle didn’t talk for a month after that. _Didn’t,_ not _couldn’t_. No one insulted Heather’s mother after that.

Heather had been prepared to accept punishment for that, even if she hadn’t actually _physically_ injured Rowle. On the contrary, Professor Snape had seemed rather pleased when she told him the whole story. He obviously detested that derogatory slur as well.

Speaking of the Potions Professor, it had become a standing appointment every Wednesday for Heather to meet him. It started off as just an hour of her asking him questions. However, after the Professor had demonstrated a more effective technique to skin shrivelfigs, he began to assign her ingredients to prepare after she finished her questions for the week.

“You might as well make yourself useful while you’re intruding on my time,” he had said irritably.

Heather hoped to advance to making potions during these sessions.

Heather’s textbook was becoming increasingly filled in with her loopy writing. Though not quite as well-annotated as the Prince’s books, she was proud of it nonetheless.

~~~

Fred and George barrelled into the Den, calling out her name.

Heather looked up from thinning the honeysuckle. “What has you two in such a state?” They looked dishevelled (well, more than usual) and red-faced, as if they had run all the way here. “Weren’t you guys having detention with Mr Filch? What did he have you doing this time?”

The twins gave manic grins.

“No,” George said, “he made us clear out-”

“-the storage cupboards in his office,” Fred finished.

Glancing bemusedly between the two, Heather ventured, “And you two…enjoyed that immensely?”

Fred snorted while his twin made a puking gesture.

“No, but we _did_ find a drawer labelled-”

“- _Confiscated and Highly Dangerous_!”

“I opened it while-”

“-I distracted Filch-”

“-and we nicked this!” they spoke proudly, flaunting a piece of parchment.

“Fred, George, that’s just a blan-” Heather started to say before her gaze sharpened. The thing was practically _soaked_ in intricate magic.

George caught the grin his brother gave him and winked back. They had her now. “Wanna inspect it?” he offered, holding it out.

Heather snatched it up excitedly and scrutinised it from all angles. “It’s blank, but there is _something_ about it.”

“Jackpot!” they cheered.

“Between Forge’s wit-”

“-Gred’s creativity-”

“-and your marginal intelligence-”

“-we’re sure to succeed!”

Heather turned their hair white at the dig.

~~~

That year’s House Cup had gone to Gryffindor, mostly because they won the Quidditch Cup, which netted them plenty of points. Their captain, Charles ‘Charlie’ Weasley, was the twins’ second eldest brother and a fabulous seeker. He had caught the snitch in almost all of Gryffindor’s matches.

Professor Snape had been moodier than usual after the announcement, though the Gryffindors would have described it more as fuming like a rampaging dragon. Heather had also had to endure Fred and George’s good natured ribbing.

As expected, Heather had aced all her examinations. Although she got an E for History of Magic, it was still the highest grade. Only one other student, a Ravenclaw, had gotten an E. Even Professor Snape seemed impressed by her marks, though it was barely noticeable. Heather rather thought that he was just smug about the top student in her year being from his house.

Hadrian was chuffed that his sister had actually fulfilled her promise, though he was hardly surprised. He was much more ecstatic that she would be back with him again for a whole nine weeks.

The Dursleys were much more skittish around the siblings, sometimes flinching when either of them made a sudden movement. Heather was a little worried about that. Desperation and fear bred aggression, after all.

Fortunately, the summer had passed without incident. They went on their own this time on their Diagon trip, on the middle date between their birthdays. Besides their traditional birthday celebrations that year, they’d also had a day out romping around the magical district.

Heather had also taken the opportunity to set up her investment plans at Gringotts. The regular correspondence she’d had with Griphook over the past year had been eye-opening and they had managed to hash out a mutually beneficial arrangement.

It was too soon when 1 September arrived again. Hadrian had to remind her of the mere year he had left until he enrolled before she could bear to leave.


	20. Time Flies. So Does a Broom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, here's another chapter for you lovely people. Thanks once again for your comments! Oh, and CJ commented about Slytherin winning the House Cup for the past six years and I admit I did miss that out. The fact that Charlie helped Gryffindor win the past few years did have a minor role in this chapter, though. Anyway, on to the story!

“But why can’t fresh nettle be used instead of dried nettle? Their engorgement property would make Swelling Solution more potent and hence lessen the required dosage,” Heather reasoned.

It was the first Wednesday since second year had started and she was once again having an extra lesson with Professor Snape. Fred and George still hadn’t stopped giving her funny looks whenever she rushed through dinner on Wednesdays.

“Accounting for that minuscule amount of sap in the fresh nettle during the brewing is a tedious and rigorous process. It requires a longer simmering time at a fixed temperature to allow the excess water to boil off while trying to keep the pufferfish eyes from burning,” Professor Snape lectured while he worked with his cauldron of Swelling Solution.

He then sneered contemptuously. “In other words, the recipe was published with simpletons in mind so that even amateurs could brew it, even if it would be much weaker.”

Heather smothered a chuckle and asked the Professor if he would demonstrate the simmering process again. Eventually, Heather got the hang of it and she cleaned up her workspace.

“I’m done; may I go now Professor?”

“I would like a word before you leave, Miss Potter.”

Heather was surprised, but took a seat in front of the Professor.

“As I am sure you recall, Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup and thus the House Cup last year,” he said scornfully.

Heather nodded, though she still didn’t know where this was going.

“Their seeker, Mr Charles Weasley, has just graduated. This leaves them with just a substandard team.”

Well, she wouldn’t exactly call them _substandard_. She had heard from Fred that their new captain, Oliver Wood, was an excellent keeper and highly devoted to the sport. Still, she waited patiently for the man to broach his point.

“There has not been a Slytherin win for the Quidditch Cup in years. Definitely not since the second Weasley took position.” Professor Snape looked at her expectantly.

“Err, yes,” Heather said uncertainly, “I really hope Slytherin has a chance now that Weasley has graduated.” She really didn’t know what the Professor was angling for. Surely he didn’t hold her back just to have small talk about _Quidditch_ of all things.

The wizard’s eye twitched in irritation as he said with forced patience, “Madam Hooch assures me that you are a satisfactory flyer.”

Heather’s mind clicked in understanding. “Sir, you are suggesting that _I_ try out for the team?” The glint in his eye told her that ‘suggest’ was an understatement.

Well, Heather enjoyed watching the matches, and the twins had gone on and on about how fun the sport was to play. As she thought more on the subject, she found herself warming up to the idea. Fred and George would be trying out as beaters too. It would be fun to compete against them.

“I’ll consider the idea, Professor Snape,” Heather replied after her contemplation. She didn’t want to actually commit to it yet.

He wasn’t quite fooled by her nonchalance, judging by the triumphant look on his face. “Of course, Miss Potter. Have a good evening.”

~~~

Heather did eventually go for the try-outs. Her year mates glared daggers at her, but she ignored them like usual. They couldn’t do anything with Madam Hooch watching, anyway.

She caught the snitch three times in the hour-long period – three times more than the other candidates. It seemed that her rapid reflexes had proved once again useful. Well, the Dursleys had to be good for something.

Heather was made seeker on the spot.

George and Fred about freaked out when Heather told them the news.

“Did you hear that Gred?”

“Unfortunately so, Forge.”

“Little Heather-harpy seeking for the snakes!”

“ _Harpy_ is right. Fast little bugger, isn’t she?”

Turning to her, they fell to their knees and cried out, “Why would you do this to us? To Gryffindor?”

She rolled her eyes. Honestly, the drama kings.

“What’s wrong?” Heather smiled innocently. “Big strong lions afraid of a little snake like me?”

“Not of _snakes,_ no, but of a-”

“- _dragon_ with insane wings?”

They looked at each other and bobbed their heads firmly. “Heck yeah!”

She smirked unrepentantly and retorted, “Then you’ll just have to work harder at _beating_ us, won’t you?”

They groaned at the bad pun. (And the possibility of losing to Slytherin.)

~~~

“And the quaffle is stolen by Flint in a _blatantly_ unfair move!” Lee, the Quidditch commentator announced. The first match of the year and it was Gryffindor against Slytherin.

Heather was circling the pitch, still trying to spot the snitch. The score was 60-90, in her team’s favour. Swerving out of the path of a bludger ( _thanks_ Fred) she caught sight of a flash of gold out of the corner of her eye.

There it was, fluttering by the base of the goalposts. The Gryffindor seeker hadn’t seen it yet. Speeding suddenly in the opposite direction, she waited until the other seeker followed suit before spinning backwards towards the snitch.

“Slytherin’s seeker, second year Heather Potter has spotted the snitch! The _tiniest_ person in the game, she flies like a comet!”

She ignored the comment on her slight height, focussing entirely on the flying golden ball. It was moving towards the grandstands in zigzag motions. She could sense her opponent back on her tail and urged her broom to hurry up.

She darted forward in a burst of speed, skimming just over the top of the Professors’ heads. Her fellow seeker was further away, staying at a cautious distance overhead to reduce the risk of crashing into the audience. The snitch was weaving in and out of the crowd, taunting her with its nearness.

‘A few more inches,’ Heather thought as she stretched her hand out. At the tips of her fingers now, she coaxed her broom faster still and-

_Gotcha!_

Hand grasped tightly around the restless winged ball, Heather rose up from her almost-dangerous proximity to the Hufflepuff spectators.

“IT’S A MATCH!” Lee called out. “Potter has won the game for the snakes! It’s obvious, of course, that they wouldn’t have won otherwise,” Lee muttered, still under the _Sonorous_.

Professor McGonagall’s outraged cry of “Jordan!” was drowned out by the raucous cheering from the Slytherin stands.

Hmm, apparently all it took to win over vindictive snakes was to catch the snitch.

~~~

“Hey, Potter, aren’t you coming for the after party?” Melinda Davies, one of the more pleasant Slytherins in her year, asked.

Heather raised a disbelieving brow. They had just won the final Quidditch match of the season against the Hufflepuffs, bringing the Cup to Slytherin for the first time in years. Without their star player, Gryffindor didn’t even make it into the finals. Hufflepuff, with their balanced team and exceptional seeker, Cedric Diggory, was rocketed to one of the top places.

Still, Heather had caught the snitch from under Diggory’s nose, allowing Slytherin to win the championship match with 310 to 200. Thus the after party.

“I wasn’t aware that I was invited, Davies,” Heather finally replied.

“You’re the seeker and we’ve just won the Cup!” Davies countered, as if it was obvious.

“I see,” Heather drawled uncaringly, “my apologies if I was uncertain of my welcome, given the numerous other parties I was supposed to be ignorant of this year.” Not that Heather had been eager to attend any of those post-match parties. She would much rather hang out with Fred and George in the Den. In fact, that was where she had been headed to.

Davies at least had the grace to look slightly chagrined. “You hung out with lions,” Davies sneered, “You still do. But now we know you’re loyal to Slytherin, else the Cup wouldn’t be in Professor Snape’s office.”

Heather resisted the urge to scoff. She wasn’t loyal to anyone but Hadrian. And Maybe Fred and George. Still, it’d be good to be on friendly terms with her housemates. Or at the very least not feuding with them.

“I’ll meet the rest of you in the dungeons later.” She waved the other girl off and quickly paced to the Den.

When she arrived, she saw Fred trying to harvest some of the verbena and immediately moved to assist him. George was the one with the green thumb, not Fred. She and George had added a few (read: several) potted plants to the room, making it look a little like the Herbology classroom.

“Guys?” Heather said carefully, “The other Slytherins invited me to a party tonight.”

They made faces of disgust. They’d already expressed – innumerable times – their opinion of her housemates’ treatment of her.

“The tossers, shouldn’t have left you outta them in the first place.”

“Yeah, you’ve been winning all their matches for them, Heather-harp.”

Heather sighed and reminded them, “It’s a team sport.”

They disregarded her comment and continued ranting about slimy snakes. She didn’t mind; she was well aware that the excluded her from that category. “Anyway, I was thinking I might go this time.” She winced a little at their mirrored looks of disapproval and quickly added, “They’ll be easier to bear with if we weren’t enemies. So I’ll make friendly with them at this party.”

Their expressions didn’t change. Doubting herself, she hurriedly said, “Of course, if you two think I shouldn’t go, I could just skip it…” Was she only excepted from the ‘slimy snakes’ for as long as she was estranged from them? Would George and Fred dislike her too if she wasn’t at war with her housemates anymore?

When George started speaking, Heather braced herself. “Do you figure that’s safe?” What? What was he talking about?

“Yeah,” Fred added his two Knuts, “What if it’s a trap? They haven’t exactly been all sunshine and rainbows.”

Heather laughed in relief. They weren’t going to reject her; they were _worried_ about her! She felt a little guilty for thinking the worst of them. Hugging them both, she assured them, “I’ll be able to handle myself. Besides, Professor Snape was invited this time too.”

George’s grimace deepened and Fred exclaimed, “That greasy git? He _enjoys_ torturing students!”

Giving them a reproving look, she said, “I’ve _told_ you, he’s only that horrible to Gryffindors! We get along just fine enough during our sessions.”

Still frowning, they conceded her point.

~~~

The party turned out to be better than Heather had expected. Despite her assurances to her friends, she _had_ worried about being attacked. Fortunately, her housemates were almost genial, if a little distant.

It couldn’t be helped, of course. Most of them were purebloods who had grown up in the same circles. The others had cliqued throughout the past two years. Thus, aside from the polite compliment on her flying, she was left mostly alone.

Heather grabbed a few more treacle tarts and profiteroles before heading for a shadowed corner of the room. Since coming to Hogwarts, her appetite had steadily increased. She actually ate more than most of her peers now, though she remained tiny. She was a little miffed about that, but she suspected that her magic burned through most of the calories she consumed.

Settling herself comfortably, she tensed a little before relaxing.

“Professor Snape,” she greeted, “how is that trophy doing?” He was hiding in the alcove as well. Had he been here all along?

The man stiffened minutely and he narrowed his eyes consideringly at her. Belatedly, Heather realised that he had been under a cloaking charm. Hopefully the man didn’t suspect anything. Perhaps he would think the charm had failed? It was a vain hope, going by the suspicion in his gaze.

“It has a place of honour on my office shelf.” Heather knew that shelf. The trophy would be in an exceedingly visible location. Professor McGonagall probably visited him often.

“Congratulations sir.”

“It is thanks to the efforts of the team. Speaking of which, are you not enjoying the _lovely_ party?” Was it? It had good food, Heather supposed, but she much preferred hanging out in the Den.

Heather deflected the question. “And you, sir? Surely enjoying the party doesn’t constitute lurking in dark corners?”

~~~

Severus caught the blatant avoidance, but humoured the girl. “Do you suppose that mingling with puerile, hormone riddled adolescents intoxicated on sugar is my idea of recreation?”

The girl smirked cheekily and answered with yet another question. “Do you suppose it is mine?”

“It is when you are one of said adolescents, yes.” He didn’t really think so; she seemed much more mature than even his seventh years. Then he would see her disappear with those blasted Weasley twins and despair of her taste in friends. And she spent every Wednesday evening with himself, didn’t she?

“Hmm, maybe,” the girl said serenely and munched at her dessert. She really did consume an inordinate amount, unlike those other pubescent witches who pecked sparingly at their meals because of their foolish diets. Oddly enough, Poppy’s reports never indicated any excessive weight gain in the girl besides that initial increase when she had first arrived in her first year. Poppy had flagged her out as a return patient as she had been slightly underweight. Of course, he had dismissed her as being one of those shallow almost-anorexic witches at the time. Now he wondered how she could have weighed so little when she obviously had a hearty appetite.

Another mystery to add to his growing list.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I'm not wrong, Cedric became Hufflepuff's seeker much later in canon, but I'd like him to be seeker, so there.


	21. Meet the Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there guys! Apologies for the short chapter; it's more of a filler, actually. Well, hope you enjoy!

Finally, the time had come. In a few short hours, Heather would be reunited with Hadrian and they wouldn’t ever have to part for so long again. For Rian would be coming to Hogwarts with her. More importantly, he would be _leaving_ Privet Drive with her.

Heather was practically bouncing in her seat on the Hogwarts Express. The next time she boarded this train, her brother would be right next to her.

“Should we be worried about how excited you are to leave us?” George asked with a wounded look.

Heather shook her head. “Sorry, just anxious to see Rian again.”

Fred nodded sagely. “Ahh, the much talked about Hadrian.”

“You’re just using us as replacements for _him_ , aren’t you?” George pointed his index at her accusingly.

Heather frowned lightly. “Of course not,” she said sincerely, looking straight at the boy. “Hadrian’s _much_ less troublesome. And more handsome too,” she added slyly. They winced dramatically.

“That hurt, Heather. It really did,” Fred said, wiping non-existent tears from the corner of his eye.

“Yeah, right here,” George added, clutching at his heart.

“No need to feel bad, boys. Hadrian’s the sweetest, most intelligent and charming boy ever. No one can compare,” she announced proudly.

Rolling his eyes, Fred shared an exasperated glance with his brother. “Brother complex,” they stated together. Heather resisted the childish urge to stick her tongue out.

“Anyway, we were gonna ask you-” Fred said

“-if you’d like to stay over at ours awhile during the hols. With your brother ‘course,” George cut in quickly. Fred threw his twin an affronted look. He’d wanted to be the one to ask.

Stunned, Heather gaped a bit before agreeing eagerly. “O-of course. If it’s not too much of an imposition.”

George gave her an ‘are you stupid?’ look while Fred said, “So we thought you could come over on your brother’s birthday and then stay the rest of the summer.”

“Yeah, we could totally throw a huge party-”

“-with water balloons-”

“-and Quidditch.”

“It’ll be _awesome_!”

Still faintly disbelieving, she commented dazedly, “That would be great, are you sure your parents won’t mind?”

“Oh please, it would give Mum an excuse to cook up a storm! And Dad will be chuffed to finally have someone to ask about muggle stuff,” Fred said, while George nodded along.

Heather could feel her grin widening to record-breaking size. “This summer will be brilliant!” She jumped up and caught them up in a tight hug. “You two are the best bestest friends a girl could ask for!” Heather squealed in an atypical show of childish enthusiasm.

~~~

“Hurry up, Heather!” Hadrian crowed, “We’re gonna be late!” He was running excitedly to Mrs Figg’s house where they would be flooing from.

“Rian, we’re two hours early,” Heather reminded. She nonetheless quickened her pace to match her brother’s. She was just as eager to get to her friends’ home.

After enduring a half hour of Mrs Figg’s inane chatter of ‘Oh, Shadow’s been shedding more frequently…’ and ‘Did you hear about Mrs Robinson’s azaleas…’, they were finally on their way.

“The Burrow!” Heather enunciated carefully after Rian had gone ahead. A familiar spinning sensation and she was tumbling towards the floor.

Large hands caught her before she became acquainted with the maroon hearth rug and a voice said, “Whoa, steady there.”

Looking up at her rescuer, she was met with Charles Weasley’s amused face. She noticed that the whole family was in the room and promptly blushed vermillion. She ducked her head a little, hoping to hide her face behind her hair, but realised it was in a braid. Curses. “Th-thanks, floos hate me,” she said by way of explanation.

She saw Rian bite his lip to keep from laughing, but Fred and George had no such compunctions.

Guffawing loudly, George tucked Heather into his side. “And this embodiment of grace, dearest family-”

“- is Heather Potter, otherwise known as-” said Fred, still snickering.

“-little harpy-”

“-huge nerd-”

“-and our soul triplet!” they chorused.

“Also, I am occasionally their nanny,” Heather added dryly while elbowing them lightly in the ribs. The whole room boomed with laughter, ignoring the twin cries of ‘Oi!’.

Her gaze landed on the middle-aged couple sitting on an ottoman and she curtseyed politely to them. “Thank you for having us over, Mr and Mrs Weasley.”

Hadrian also gave a light bow. “You have a lovely home. It’s very warm and inviting.”

Mrs Weasley smiled kindly and stood to hug them. “Oh, it was our pleasure. You have such lovely manners! Definitely a sight better than these ruffians here!” she said with a long-suffering sigh.

“Suck up,” all the Weasley children said and Mrs Weasley clucked at them.

“Really, no manners, the lot of you! You haven’t even introduced yourselves!”

Looking sheepish, a tanned man with long hair tied up in a ponytail stood and offered his hand to shake. “I’m Bill Weasley, the oldest of this crazy bunch. Curse Breaker for the Gringotts branch in Egypt. Pleased to meet you.” Heather thought he looked really cool, especially with that fang earring he sported.

Next was the shorter but stockier Charles Weasley. “Great to officially meet you two! Fred and George are always going on about ‘Heather this’ and ‘Heather that’,” he said, over their blushing denials, “Charlie Weasley. I work with dragons at a reserve in Romania.” Heather caught the curious gleam in her brother’s eyes and groaned inwardly. He _would_ be the kind to think such dangerous creatures were fun.

Following Charlie was Percy. He looked like the most serious and well-kept of the group, so much so that some might call him stuffy. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Percival Weasley. You may address me as Percy, if you wish.” Yes, Percy seemed rather stiff compared to his other siblings.

Oddly enough, the twins stepped forward to introduce themselves as well.

“Don’t look at us like that, Heather-harp-”

“-we get to finally meet your brother-”

“-the _sweetest, most intelligent and charming boy ever_!” they said in falsetto in a poor attempt to imitate her voice.

Hadrian flushed deeply and looked accusingly at his sister, who just shrugged negligently. He determinedly ignored Mrs Weasley’s coos and the others’ laughter.

“Anyway,” they bellowed.

“I’m Gred-”

“I’m Forge-”

“-and we are the most amazing prankster kings known to wizardkind!”

Heather rolled her eyes heavenward and grabbed their arms. “Don’t listen to them, Rian. This one,” she said, holding up one of the arms, “is Fred and this,” she said, raising the other, “is George.”

“Psh, like you can _actually_ tell them apart,” the remaining boy said. He waved his hand in greeting and introduced, “Name’s Ron. I’ll be starting Hogwarts this year. Hope we’ll be good mates!” Heather smiled and nodded, but she was still thinking about what he had said. Even their family couldn’t identify them?

The youngest, the only girl, was peeking out bashfully from behind her parents. “H-hello,” she whispered shyly, “’M Ginny.” That was all she said. From the bright blush she had as she stared intensely at Rian, Heather figured she knew why.

“Wonderful! And you two can just call us Molly and Arthur,” Mrs Weas- _Molly_ said cheerfully. “Just make yourselves at home!”

While Fred showed Heather and her brother around the house, she was struck by a thought. The Weasleys had given them in an hour what the Dursleys had never in the past eight years. A sense of _belonging_.


	22. A Crazy Party

After Heather and Hadrian had had their tour of the house, Charlie suggested a pick-up game of Quidditch. Everyone agreed, aside from Percy, who preferred to read in his room. Hadrian was especially excited to try riding on a broom.

“Heard you’re Slytherin’s star seeker. Fancy a little match while the others sort things out?” Charlie whispered conspiratorially to Heather. She looked over to where Rian was being coached by Bill. Seeing that he was in good hands, she accepted readily.

“Best two out of three?” Heather suggested. The others didn’t look even _remotely_ ready.

“You’re on!” Charlie said, releasing the snitch. “On three? One…two…three!” Both seekers took off like a shot.

The first round went to Charlie, who was more familiar with the landscape. Heather did her best to catch up but was waylaid by a lopsided tree here, a jutting rock there…

Having gotten a feel for the ‘pitch’, she flew more confidently in the second match. She spotted the snitch quickly and flew off after it as it darted over the uneven ground. Her head-start and agile manoeuvring won her the second match.

The third match was the closest. Both of them caught sight of the golden ball at the same time and sped towards it. The snitch seemed to realise that it was the tie-breaker and did its utmost to swerve and zigzag across the whole area. Heather had faster reflexes and could follow closer in the snitch’s erratic path. However, Charlie was larger and had a longer reach. Thus, when they both reached out for their prize, Charlie’s hand reached first.

When they landed, they were both grinning madly even as they panted for breath.

“That was brilliant! Wood wasn’t exaggerating when he said you could fly for England,” Heather praised, holding her hand out.

Charlie shook her hand firmly. “Are you kidding? You were great out there! If my arms were any shorter, you would have won. And you’re only, what, thirteen?” He shook his head in amazement. “No wonder Slytherin won the Cup.”

Heather waved her hand dismissively and demurred. She wasn’t as incredible a flier as the older boy was. He had probably gone easy on her. She turned to see if the others were ready yet, wanting to change the subject.

Only to find them staring at them. At _her_. Bill and Ron looked kind of gobsmacked. Ginny and Hadrian had awed looks instead. Strange, he usually only did that when she performed new feats of magic for him. Fred and George just appeared smug and…triumphant? Mr and Mrs Weasley looked rather pale, though the matriarch was rapidly turning red.

“CHARLES WEASLEY!” Mrs Weasley hollered, “What were you _thinking_ , making the poor girl fly so dangerously? She could have fallen and broken her neck!” She strode over to Heather and inspected her for injuries. Satisfied that she was in one piece, Mrs Weasley continued to berate her second son.

“Mrs Weasley, really, it’s fine! I wasn’t in any danger. I’m seeker for my house; I fly like that all the time. Haven’t had any major injuries,” Heather explained rapidly. She was still thrown by the worry the woman had shown her, going so far as to scold her own son. She also felt rather guilty of getting Charlie into trouble.

“Charlie and I simply agreed to a friendly seeker match. Bill was right there the whole time. He could have cast a levitation spell in the unlikely chance that any of us fell.” Mrs Weasley looked, not exactly _appeased_ , but not livid anymore at least. Charlie mouthed a thanks at her when his mother turned her attention to Bill instead.

Heather was then swarmed by eager redheads.

“Wow, Heather, that was incredible! Could you teach me to fly like that?” Hadrian asked excitedly.

“You were really great, Heather,” Ginny complimented bashfully.

“Brill’! You would have totally kicked Charlie’s butt!” Ron exclaimed before he got a whack from said brother.

Fred and George had suspicious smiles on their faces, though. They turned to the recently-freed Bill and held their palms out. Their eldest brother groaned and handed them a Galleon each.

“You bet on me?” Heather asked sardonically. They had the nerve to grin cheekily.

“Billy here didn’t believe-”

“-us about how good a-”

“-flier you were, so really-”

“we were defending your good name-”

“like the chivalrous knights we are.”

Heather just smiled sweetly at them. They weren’t smart enough to have their guards up. They should really have known better by now. “As long as I get my cut, seeing as how it was _my_ effort that got you your winnings.”

“Sneaky Slytherins!” they moaned theatrically.

“Wait,” Ron cut in, a familiar look on his face, “you’re really a _Slytherin_?”

Heather looked at him critically and said, “Yes, any problem with that?” It was disgust she was reading from him.

“Well, Slytherins are slim-” Ron’s impending diatribe was silenced by a hard thwack on his head by George.

“How ‘bout that Quidditch game?” Fred exclaimed loudly, stepping in front of Ron.

“Dibs on Heather for seeker!” Bill shot out.

“Damn! Okay, Charlie’s with me then!” George said.

The teams were easily split after that. They played well into the evening, having so much fun that they didn’t bother keeping score. No one even noticed that Fred and George kept switching places, despite them being on opposing teams.

After Heather caught the snitch one last time, Mrs Weasley declared that it was time to wash up. Reluctantly, they stowed away all their equipment and headed inside for dinner.

~~~

_“Happy birthday to you~”_ everyone sang. Hadrian’s green eyes were glittering in joy and he clapped enthusiastically with everyone.

This was his first ever birthday party (that he could remember). There was a _real_ cake with eleven blue candles! Though he had already had his private commemoration with his sister, this was special too. He actually had friends celebrating with him and Heather, even if Ron had been a jerk earlier.

Mrs Weasley cooked like, well, magic! He’d thought that Hogwarts food was great, but her home-cooked beat that by miles! She kept refilling his and Heather’s plates, saying something about them being too thin.

He even got a few presents, although the party had been more than enough of a gift. He felt really shy about receiving them, but he made sure to thank them sincerely like Heather had taught him to. Mostly, he received candy. They were the wizarding kind, like chocolate frogs and sugar quills. Those, he passed around for everyone to share, even though he made sure to try each of them. Even the blood pops.

He loved all his presents, but his sister’s was the most cherished. She had promised to get him a familiar on their next visit to Diagon Alley. He had wanted one since he first heard of them two years ago! They would probably have to live at Hogwarts during the summer though. He didn’t want the Dursleys anywhere near his familiar. Who knew _what_ they would do to it!

All in all, it was the absolute best birthday in his life!

~~~

“Y’know, Hadrian,” Fred whispered surreptitiously, “we promised your sister water balloons at your party.” George handed him an orange balloon about the size of his fist.

They were supposed to be playing Wizard’s Tag in the backyard, but evidently, the twins thought that catching each other with the water balloons was a better alternative.

“Go on then, Hadrian, choose your vict- I mean target!” Hadrian glanced around the field in consideration. Well…Ron had been mean to his sister earlier. Cocking his arm back, he flung the balloon. It flew true, hitting Ron with a large splat.

Only, the twins had neglected to tell him that the balloons weren’t filled with just water. Apparently, it wasn’t the _balloons_ that were orange.

“Ooh, ickle Ronniekins is looking a little off… _colour_ ,” Fred teased.

“Might Ronnie be coming down with something?” George asked in faux concern.

Ron had a splash of lurid orange on his torso. It clashed horribly with his red hair…and rapidly reddening cheeks.

“FRED! GEORGE!” Ron shouted angrily. Then he grabbed a conveniently placed balloon and threw it at the twins. Unfortunately, his aim was off and it hit his eldest brother instead.

“So this is how you wanna play it, huh?” Bill said, rubbing paint out of his eyes. “Well, take _this_!” he cried, throwing a handful of balloons George had shoved into his arms. Instead of Ron, now Ginny and Charlie were orange too.

“WATER BALLOON FIGHT” the twins announced and chucked a few of their own ammo.

Soon, balloons were flying through the air in all directions.

~~~

“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING!?”

Everyone froze in their tracks and turned slowly towards a furious Mrs Weasley.

“Look at the mess you all just made! Oh, Heather and Hadrian must think I raised a bunch of savages!” Mrs Weasley ranted as she took in the horrid mess the yard was in. She looked at all her hellions and her eye twitched in irritation.

“Arthur, _you too_?” she said in disbelief. The man smiled awkwardly.

“Now, now, Molly. The kids were just having some fun…”

“Oh, you’re a _kid_ now, are you?” she muttered. Straightening, she ordered them all to clean the backyard. Without magic.

“They’ll be wanting supper too, I suppose,” Molly said to herself in exasperation. Heather seemed to really enjoy the treacle tart and Hadrian practically scarfed down that chocolate cake. She still had some in the pantry that needed only a warming charm before serving.

There was a beat of silence after Mrs Weasley went back inside the house. Then all the Weasleys burst into raucous laughter. Heather and Hadrian, in contrast, were shocked. They’d been _sure_ that Mrs Weasley would punish them for the mess they helped make. Was that all? No belt, no cupboard?

The others began to cheerfully wipe up all the spilt paint while Heather exchanged an indecipherable look with her brother. They followed suit.

For once, it was their _own_ mess they were cleaning up after.

~~~

Heather and Hadrian soon realised that living with the Weasleys was nothing like the Dursleys.

For one, magic use was integrated into everyday life. From preparing meals to gardening to playing games, magic was present everywhere. They had to be doubly careful not to perform wandless magic in front of anyone else in the crowded house.

For another, the Weasleys behaved as if they were an _actual_ part of their family, and not just unwanted nuisances.

Mrs Weasley actually thought they were _cute_ for offering to help with meals. (“Just run along, breakfast will be ready in a tic!”) All the children had an equal share of the chores, like cleaning their own rooms and de-gnoming the garden.

For the most part, they were allowed to do whatever they wanted as long as they stayed safe. Once, Mrs Weasley even chided Heather for not eating enough. Wasn’t _that_ a novelty!

Thus the Potter siblings spent their first Dursley-free summer.

They played Quidditch – a lot of it. Percy and Ron taught them to play Wizard’s Chess, though neither of them really took to it. Bill and Charlie regaled them with tales of ancient tombs and nesting mothers, though they left after two weeks to get back to work. Ginny tended to follow Hadrian like a lost duckling while Heather privately cooed at how adorable they were. Hadrian did his utmost best to secretly foil the twin’s pranks, laughing when they puzzled over their failed antics. Heather chose her favourite tree in the backyard (a sturdy rowan) to sit under and read her Prince’s books during lazy afternoons. She even got Fred and George to finish their homework properly, something Mrs Weasley fervently thanked her for.

Alas, even the best of summers had to give way to autumn.


	23. So It Begins

“Okay Rian, do you have your trunk?” Hadrian held up his necklace, on which his shrunken trunk hung. “Your wand?” He lifted his robe sleeve, letting his eleven-inch holly and phoenix feather wand peek out. “Anguis?” A short hiss answered that query. “Oh, what else is there? How about-”

“-a hug and a kiss from my beloved sister?” Rian interrupted cheekily. Heather chuckled and obliged. “Really, Heather, you worry too much! Just go board your carriage, I’ll be sharing the boat with Ron. And I promise not to dive into the lake. Or feed the Giant Squid. Or feed the squid by diving in and offering myself as a meal.”

Heather smiled sheepishly at hearing the concerns she’d had repeated. She _did_ sound ridiculous. She sighed and waved her brother on, waiting till he got safely on a boat before leaving for her own ride.

“Back already, Mummy Heather?” Fred said.

“Thought you’d have ridden on the boat with him, actually,” George ribbed.

Grimacing slightly, she continued to stare worriedly down at the lake, though the carriage flew too high up to see clearly. “I was convinced not to.”

“Oh cheer up, Heather!”

“You’ll see him soon at the Sorting.”

“Besides, Ronnie’s with him.”

“Uh, Gred? _I’m_ worried now.”

Heather allowed the twins’ byplay draw out a smile. “Rather, _Rian_ should be worried, leaving me here to fend against you two,” she said glibly.

Rian would be just fine. Now, if only she could believe it.

~~~

“GRYFFINDOR!” the Sorting Hat finally shouted after at least _six_ minutes. Heather sighed in relief and clapped hard, ignoring the subtle glares her housemates gave her. She had been immensely worried by the long time the hat had taken, despite the precedence of hat stalls. She shouldn’t have. She herself had taken about four minutes to sort, after all.

Heather looked over at the Gryffindor table and caught Fred and George’s gazes. Her eyes flitted briefly to her brother before returning to them. They inclined their heads solemnly. She smiled gratefully. They would look out for him.

Sighing as the Headmaster began his typical welcome speech, Heather recalled the conversation she had had with Hadrian.

_“Heather?” her brother said abruptly after a whole hour of tossing and turning on their bed. Heather immediately began to worry. What had her brother sounding so scared? She made sure the silencing charms around their bed were active. Wouldn’t want to wake the twins._

_“Rian? What’s wrong?”_

_He was silent for a few moments. “…Will you hate me if I’m not Slytherin like you are?”_

_Heather sighed in relief. That’s all he was worried about? “I don’t care which house you Sort into, Rian,” she said honestly, “As long as you’re happy.”_

_“Even Gryffindor?” he said in a small voice._

_She couldn’t help it; she laughed. “Rian, Mama and Papa were Gryffindors. Fred and George are Gryffindors. We’re in a_ houseful _of Gryffindors. Believe me, the house rivalry doesn’t bother me. In fact,_ I _should be asking_ you _whether you hate me for being Slytherin.”_

_He shook his head frantically. “Of course not! You’re my sister, a silly thing like your house won’t make me stop loving you!”_

_Heather gave him a fond smile and cuddled him closer. “I couldn’t have said it better myself. Good night, Hadrian.”_

_There was a slight pause, then a soft kiss was placed on her cheek and a softer, “Good night, Heather,” was said._

Surfacing from the memory, Heather frowned when she went over what Headmaster Dumbledore had said. She, Fred and George had explored most of the castle already and nothing had been amiss at the third floor corridor last year, certainly nothing that would result in painful death. Why was it out of bounds?

~~~

As Heather settled into bed, she began to worry about her brother again. Was he with the other first year lions in the tower? Or had he gotten lost already? He was very curious about the castle. Oh Merlin, what if he’d wandered into the third floor corridor?

Worrying at her lip, she rummaged around her trunk for a piece of parchment. A whispered password later, she sighed in relief when she saw the dot labelled ‘Hadrian Potter’ tucked safely in the Gryffindor common room. She had worked herself into a frenzy for nothing.

Thankfully, she had the Marauder’s Map with her. She and the twins had taken a few months to discover the secrets of that blank parchment nicked from Argus Filch’s office, but their effort had been well worth it.

An odd phrase had suddenly popped into her head while they’d been thinking of possible passwords. The words they had already figured out, ‘solemnly swear’, had triggered a burst of memory.

Heather thought she’d been going mad when her impulsive utterance of _‘I solemnly swear I am up to no good’_ had activated the parchment. Until she had read the writing.

_Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs_

_Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief Makers_

_Are proud to present_

_THE MARAUDER’S MAP_

Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs… Those had been the nicknames of Papa and his three friends. Prongs was Papa. Moony and Padfoot were the wizards that had often visited when she was younger. She’d never seen Wormtail before, but Papa had mentioned him several times. She didn’t know what had happened to them after That Night.

Anyway, that had explained why Heather knew the passcode for the map. Papa must have told it to her before, or mentioned it. George and Fred had wanted to give it to her since it was originally hers by birthright, but she insisted they share it instead. So now the map changed hands every week, or whenever any of them required it.

She suspected that the map, in conjunction with the cloak, helped them avoid Professors whenever they snuck out after curfew for their pranks, but never outright asked. Plausible deniability, she’d said when they brought it up.

She should probably pass both to her brother now that he was in Hogwarts too. Perhaps then Fred and George wouldn’t get up to so much mischief. Even if they _had_ memorised the map and all the secret passages already.

~~~

After breakfast the next day, Heather walked towards the lion’s den to look for her brother. The Gryffindors mostly ignored her, used to her presence because of the twins.

He was sitting next to Ron, who scowled at her approach. She dismissed the brat and hugged her brother from behind. Startled, he gave a tiny yelp.

“Heather!” His annoyance turned to joy and he wished her a good morning. She took a seat next to him when he scooted over, on the other side of Ronald Weasley, thankfully.

“So, how are you doing so far? Anybody I’ll have to pull aside?” she asked, only half joking.

From across the table, Fred and George cleared their throats loudly to get her attention. She ignored them.

“Really, Heather-harpy,” Fred cried.

“Your brother comes to Hogwarts and you stop caring about us!” George whined.

“That’s cold, it is,” they exclaimed, hugging each other and pretending to shiver.

Heather rolled her eyes. “ _Good morning,_ Gred and Forge. Now hush, let Rian speak.”

“Knew we were just replacements,” Fred muttered to himself.

“Fine,” they said louder, “let’s hear _Hadrian_ talk.”

Hadrian laughed at their affronted expressions and told them about his experience so far.

“…so the two other students we shared a boat with were Sorted into Gryffindor too! Neville Longbottom.” He gestured to a chubby boy a few seats down.

The boy looked up at the mention of his name and quickly ducked his head again upon seeing so many people looking at him. Heather gave him a friendly wave when she caught his attention and he gave a jerky nod.

“A shy one, isn’t he? Seems like a nice boy though,” Heather commented.

Hadrian nodded in agreement. “Neville has a pet toad named Trevor. I told Anguis not to eat him. The other student is Hermione Granger, at the end of the table there.” Heather saw a bushy-haired brunette witch absorbed in a thick tome sitting further away.

Ronald made a rude sound. “She’s a know-it-all. Real annoying. Went on and on about _Hogwarts, a History_ – as if anyone cares.”

Heather’s eyes narrowed at the mean remark. It wasn’t even said in a teasing tone, like the banter she had with Fred and George. The boy was a real brat. Was he really the same age as her Rian?

“Now, brother dearest, just because you haven’t picked up a book in your life, it’s no reason to be jealous of young Miss Granger,” Fred said mockingly.

“I’m sure she would be _happy_ to share some of hers with you. Just be sure not to drool on them,” George added sweetly.

Ronald just sputtered furiously, spraying the food he had in his mouth all over his plate. Heather quickly banished the mess, pursing her lips at the disgusting behaviour.

“Well, I think it’s great that she’s so prepared for school. Maybe we should hang out with her. I’m sure she’ll have lots of pointers for us,” Hadrian said sensibly to Ronald, who reluctantly agreed.

Heather beamed at her brother for his thoughtfulness. She knew that he’d already read that book cover to cover.

She clapped her hands once to get their attention. “Well, it’s almost time for the first class. We should get going.” With one more hug, Hadrian walked off with Ronald.

“Thanks for what you guys said to your brother just now,” Heather whispered as she saw Hadrian approach Hermione Granger.

They each swung an arm around her shoulders and started walking to their first class, DADA. It must have looked comical since she was so much shorter than them.

“We couldn’t just let him insult know-it-alls like that,” George said.

Smiling, Fred added, “Not when we have our own-”

“-right here!” they said, poking her head.

Heather laughed gaily and dragged them bodily to the classroom. “Hurry up or we’ll be late you slow _pokes_!”

“Stop the lousy puns!” they complained.


	24. Greasy Git

Heather rushed through her dinner and waved a quick goodbye to her boys at the lions’ table. Time for another session with her Head of House. After fighting so hard to continue her extra lessons, she didn’t want to be late.

Professor Snape had been worried that she would be too busy with her new classes to make time for anything extra. Of course, what he’d actually said was “Your arrogance in taking on these extra-curricular lessons in addition to your numerous electives is appalling.” She took that as concern for her workload.

Heather had chosen four electives after her examinations last year. Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Care of Magical Creatures and Divination. She had wanted to take on all the electives but didn’t think Muggle Studies was necessary, being muggle-raised and all. That, and the book had written that muggles used _fellytones_ and _escapators_. Even if she _had_ led a deprived lifestyle with the Dursleys, she knew enough that the class would be useless for her.

She absolutely _adored_ her new classes, Ancient Runes especially. Enchantments put on objects by charms might be temporary, but rune-based enchantments could be made permanent. She practically devoured any book on the subject she could find. Professor Babbling had recommended several books for her since the others in the class were still at the basics.

Heather shook her head. Potions now, Runes later. Professor Snape looked up as she stepped in. “You asked about the Ageing Potion last term. We will be brewing it today.” He swept into the adjoining laboratory, robes billowing impressively as usual.

“The preparation and brewing of Ageing Potion is not simple, but neither is it very difficult. In fact, the only reason it is taught in seventh year instead of third year is because most students in this school are entirely unappreciative of the subject and cannot be trusted around a soup pot, never mind a cauldron.”

He handed her a parchment with the recipe written in vaguely familiar handwriting. “Explain the use of all the ingredients listed as you prepare them.”

Heather read through the list before getting to work. The Professor had been training her to multitask efficiently as it was an important skill for competent potioneers to manage several brews at once. Even now, he had four cauldrons simmering as he instructed her.

She steadily diced, sliced and chopped various ingredients, explaining their purpose in the potion as she progressed. Coming to the final one, she hesitantly ground the tortoise shell to a fine powder as instructed. She paused in her explanation though. The _ground_ tortoise shell? That didn’t make sense.

“Professor Snape, shouldn’t the tortoise shell be added whole?”

“Should it?” he commented dryly.

Heather furrowed her brows, though she continued grinding the shell. She could be wrong, but she was sure she wasn’t. “The shell needs to gradually dissolve in the acidic base potion, because if it is incorporated too rapidly in its ground form, the potion will destabilise.”

“Good.” She smiled in satisfaction. She had pleased the Professor, it seemed. His mouth had twitched upward slightly, she was certain. “Now finish grinding that shell; I require it for Calming Draught. The new batch of OWL students have finally realised how hopelessly unprepared they are.”

“Speaking of new students, how was your first lesson with the Gryffindor first years this morning?” Heather asked, putting her silver cauldron over the fire.

“Just another ragtag group of dunderheads in who are unlikely to even hear of my NEWT classes, let alone receive admittance to it.”

Amused, she asked, “Did you give your speech?” Now, _that_ had been art. It was a wonder so few students took an interest in the subject with inspiring first insight the Professor gave.

He made an inquiring sound as he tended his own cauldrons. Heather almost turned to him in disbelief, but she was adding the flobberworm mucous to her potion. “Your signature first words to each class!” She could even say it word-for-word, it was so memorable.

_“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death – if you aren’t as big a bunch of imbeciles as I usually have to teach.”_

Heather paused for breath. “Sorry, I can’t say it as well as you do.”

Professor Snape stayed silent. She frowned as she made six clockwise stirs. Had she offended him by parroting his speech? She remembered how angry he had been when she had repeated his speech to them as first year Slytherins.

She almost dropped her stirring rod when he cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, the Headmaster thought that calling the students imbeciles was too insensitive. He didn’t want you brats having your feelings hurt. Thus I have modified the speech slightly.”

Heather nodded. Well, it might actually serve to better motivate students if their Professor didn’t insult them.

“It is dunderheads now.”

A bout of laughter escaped before she could control herself. “I see… _Much_ more…sensitive,” she said between giggles.

“Regrettably, Potions is a field which most wizards and witches overlook, simply because their shallow minds cannot grasp such complexity. One accomplished student every few years is more than miraculous already,” he said seriously.

Heather smiled at the veiled compliment. “How is Hadrian? Not too much trouble, I hope.” While not as avid about the subject as she was, he had still read the whole first and second year books already.

“Mr Potter did passably well. For a Gryffindor.” The wizard then grimaced as he said, “It is the esteemed Mr Weasley that you should reserve your concern for.”

Heather scowled lightly at the mention of the youngest Weasley son. Hopefully Hadrian would be a good influence on him eventually, rather than vice versa.

“Not particularly fond of the boy, I take it.” The man was probably smirking. He was all for insulting Gryffindors.

Struggling to find something diplomatic to say, she eventually came up with, “…He’s Hadrian’s friend.” Even if he was a bigoted, lazy and rude little boy.

“Indeed.” Heather didn’t know whether he was responding to her words or thoughts. Sometimes it felt like he could read her mind.

“Anyway,” Heather said too-brightly, “rest assured, Rian will not be exploding cauldrons in your classroom. Of course, you’ll probably treat him as horribly as other Gryffindors, won’t you?” _But not because he’s James Potter’s son_. Heather stared challengingly at the man.

He nodded curtly, raising an imperious brow at her almost-threat. “Idiotic lions need someone to deflate their ballooned egos. You seem very confident of Mr Potter’s capabilities.”

Adding a sprig of dandelion to her simmering potion, she said, “He’s actually read all his first year books more times than _I_ have. He had a lot of free time.” Being stuck inside an enclosed space for most of every day did that for a person.

“I was given to understand that you stayed with the Weasley clan during the summer. They aren’t known to be boring,” he said wryly.

Heather wondered whether there was an insult hidden in there aimed at the redhead family but stopped herself. Wasn’t there always an insult with him? “I meant at the Dursleys,” she tried not to spit out,” He read a lot during my first two years here.” Otherwise, he might have gone crazy staring at the same four walls every second of every day.

She realised that she was in dangerous territory. Abruptly, she asked, “Would it be better to shred the lemongrass before adding it?”

“No, Miss Potter, the lemongrass…”

Heather held in a relieved smile and listened intently to the Professor’s explanation.

~~~

Following the glowing dot on her father’s map, Heather turned the corner and found her brother.

“Morning, Rian. A little early for a walk, isn’t it?” 6am _was_ really early. The sun hadn’t even risen yet. They both still woke at ungodly hours, courtesy of Petunia’s years of ‘care’.

“G’morning Heather! I see you haven’t broken this habit either, despite being at Hogwarts for two years already.”

She shrugged before looping an arm around through his. “The castle’s peaceful at this time,” she explained, “And we can’t get in trouble for breaking curfew.”

Hadrian laughed sheepishly. “Was it _that_ obvious?”

She gave him an unimpressed look. “Rian, _I_ gave you that cloak. Do you really think that I don’t know what you use it for?” He smiled faintly and shook his head.

Furrowing her brows, she looked at her brother worriedly. “Are you alright? You’re acting a little off.” And he kept rubbing his scar.

He hesitated visibly before whispering, “It’s been hurting.” He didn’t need to say what _it_ was. “The first time was when I looked at Professor Snape during the Welcoming Feast. It’s also been twinging periodically throughout the day.”

Clenching her fists, she tried not to let her distress show. His scar had never given him any trouble before. It had been inflicted by That Man, so if it was hurting now… A stab of fear pierced her heart.

“Ron thinks it’s Professor Snape’s fault, calls him Greasy Git and Dungeon Bat. It’s ‘cos he glowers at us and treats all the Gryffindors miserably. He yelled at me yesterday when Ron put too many porcupine quills in the potion and he banished it before I could add pigeon down to neutralise it.” Poor Rian looked subdued and dejected. Had she looked like that in first year too?

Heather wrapped her arm around his shoulders and squeezed them comfortingly. “You know Professor Snape does that to all his students. Only Slytherins are spared his harsh treatment. He’s infamous for his hatred of Gryffs. It’s nothing against you personally.” Well, it better not be, or she and the Professor would be having _words_. “And I can assure you that it’s not him that’s making the scar hurt.”

Chuckling weakly, Rian said, “I didn’t really think so. He’s your _favourite_ Professor after all.”

“He is _not_!” she protested unconvincingly, “He’s just such a brilliant Potions Master! He’s really much better a teacher one-on-one. He doesn’t stalk around, or glare as cruelly, or shout as much and he knows so much, gives great advice on how to modify…” she trailed off, blushing when she realised she was rambling.

Hadrian gave her a knowing look. “Riigghhtt,” he said, drawing it out. “And you _didn’t_ just glower when I said Ron called him a greasy git.” Heather felt herself scowling again and schooled her expression.

“I’m a Slytherin; we defend our own,” Heather said haughtily, flipping her waist-length braid.

Her brother was laughing at her now. “I don’t see you rushing to Malfoy’s defence when Ron calls him a dumb ferret.”

She sniffed irritably. “Even a broken clock is right twice a day,” she said, a tad uncharitably. Before Rian could continue, she changed the subject. “Let’s go to the owlery. I want to visit Hedwig. Speaking of which, where’s Anguis?”

Anguis, an inland taipan, was Hadrian’s familiar. As promised, Heather had bought him one over the summer. Mrs Weasley had almost had a heart attack, of course, but they’d assured her that Anguis wouldn’t hurt anyone. While shopping, Heather had also seen the most beautiful snowy owl at Eeylops and fell in love on the spot. She’d named her Hedwig, the patron saint of orphans.

“Oh, she’s supposed to be hunting, but I think she just went to visit Prometheus. Methinks she has a crush on Theus,” he said deviously. Prometheus was a portrait of a runespoor in the dungeons. Theus was the head on the far right on the three-headed snake.

“At least she’s taking a break from provoking Scabbers,” Heather stated as she stretched an arm out for Hedwig to land on. While stroking her owl’s pristine white feathers, she mused about the normally affable taipan’s hostility towards Ron’s rat.

It wasn’t just that Anguis was a natural predator; she was perfectly civil to Trevor. What was it about Scabbers that ticked her off so much?


	25. Of Dragons and Derring-Do

The Great Hall was abuzz with excitement. Everyone was discussing the latest news about the break-in at Gringotts. Heather paid no heed to the flashing headline on the newspaper and dug into her pancakes with vigour. She would write to Griphook later – the Daily Prophet wasn’t worth the paper it was printed on.

She pushed away from the table and went to collect George and Fred for their first class, DADA. She really hadn’t thought it was possible for that class to get worse after last year’s fiasco of a teacher, but Professor Quirrell really took the cake. It was really peculiar how their defence teachers kept changing every year. Professor Wilson had disappeared while visiting the selkies of the Faroe Islands. Professor Harlowe had perished in a tragic flying accident. And who knew what would happen to Professor Quirrell. Personally, she was betting on a gnome skirmish.

Really, what had Professor Dumbledore been thinking when he hired that stuttering mess? Professor Quirrell looked like a pixie could scare him into apoplexy. Doxies had succeeded the other day in class.

On the other hand, he sometimes had malevolent _looks_ when he didn’t think anyone was paying attention. At those times, he could strike fear in her heart in ways Professor Snape’s glares and threats didn’t. It didn’t make sense.

Shuddering, Heather banished her wayward thoughts and focussed on the paragraph on defensive strategies and spells against Lethifolds, tuning out Professor Quirrell’s choppy introduction on boggarts.

After the dismal DADA lesson in which the Professor had shrieked like a bean sidhe upon encountering his boggart, Heather walked to the hospital wing for her annual check-up. She had been surprised to find out that her Head of House was the only one to schedule mandatory appointments for his students.

Because of that first check-up in first year, Heather now visited Madam Pomfrey at least once a month. Initially, it was because she needed her weight monitored. Now, she went to see the matron to just chat or learn some healing spells.

It had been insightful for Heather to learn how spells differed from her own wandless healing. The spells held much more finesse, utilising a minimal amount of magic and intense precision to heal the injured cells. Her own wandless magic simply involved flooding the wounded area with dense healing magic. While useful when she had an abundance of magic and no knowledge of the required spell, learning Medimagic was _much_ more practical.

She had also had a _mortifying_ talk with the matron about puberty and relationships. Petunia had obviously never felt the need to inform her of any of _that_. Heather was grateful that Madam Pomfrey had been shrewd enough to discern her ignorance in such matters. She wasn’t looking forward to having the same talk with Hadrian. She smiled wryly at the thought and opened the infirmary door.

“Madam Pomfrey, I’m here!”

“You again, child? I should make you start assisting around here, you know enough of the basics,” the school matron said as she huffed fondly.

Heather formed an indignant frown. “Hey, I _actually_ have an appointment today, ma’am.”

The kindly woman chuckled and pointed to a bed. “Yes, I’m aware. Why don’t we get star-”

“Poppy!” someone shouted as the door banged open. “We have a flying injury. Might be a broken bone.” Madam Hooch strode in, a distraught Neville Longbottom following behind.

“Oh my, just a moment please, Heather.” Madam Pomfrey switched her attention to the injured first year.

Heather smiled reassuringly at the anxious boy, receiving a grimace in return. “Hey there, Neville. First flying lesson, huh? Don’t worry, you’ll get better!”

“H-hullo H-heather. Fell o-off my broom, d-don’t think I can get m-much worse,” he stuttered weakly. Heather hid a wince at the jutting exposed bone. Definitely a broken wrist.

“Don’t you worry, Madam Pomfrey will fix you up faster than you can say ‘ouch’. So, Hadrian’s still on the field?” Neville, looking much more relaxed as the Mediwitch cast a spell, nodded.

“Madam Pomfrey, could I postpone my check-up? Rian’s having his first flying lesson!” Of course, he already knew how to fly, but she still wanted to be there.

The matron shooed her off. “Oh go on, dear. You’ll be back soon, no doubt.”

Heather quickly said her farewells and left with one last comforting smile at Neville.

The first year Gryffs and Slyths were all making a ruckus on the pitch. Heather couldn’t spot Rian anywhere, but she saw Hermione staring off into the distance worriedly.

“What’s going on Hermione? Why’s Madam Hooch in such a tizzy?”

“Draco Malfoy had Neville’s remembrall and he threw it towards the Black Lake. Hadrian flew off to go retrieve it,” Hermione said, hands wringing nervously.

“Oh,” Heather said, confused, “is _that_ all? What’s everyone so concerned then?”

The other girl stared at her in shock. “Aren’t you worried? He just took off like a rocket after Malfoy! He could unseat himself and fall into the lake!”

“Is that why Madam Hooch looks like she’s about to have an aneurysm?” Rian _did_ look very jerky on his broom. She’d never actually seen him fly before. The snitch was always her entire focus during Quidditch matches. He made a lot of sharp turns and risky dives, a stark contrast from her own flying. “Well, he’ll have no problem getting that remembrall. See? He’s already flying back here.”

Hadrian landed right next to them. “Watcha doing here, Heather? Did you see that? I caught this!” he said breathlessly, holding up a small orb.

Before she could respond, a shrill voice cut in.

“Mr Potter! You will come with me now.” Oh my, Madam Hooch had gone to get Professor McGonagall?

“Professor…” Heather attempted to defend her brother.

“Not to worry, Miss Potter. Mr Potter is not going to be punished.” With that said, she walked off with Hadrian trailing after her.

Hopefully, what the Professor said was true.

~~~

Stunned speechless, Heather stared at her brother. Had she heard him correctly?

“You’re the new Gryffindor seeker?” she repeated. He nodded. Hadrian was still a first year! Quidditch games could get really brutal. Especially between Gryffs and Slyths. He was so _small_. Granted, he was now taller than her. Still…

“Yeah!” Hadrian cheered happily, then his face fell. “You don’t like it? ‘Cos you’re seeker too?”

Heather rushed to refute that idea. “No, of course not! I’m thrilled! Just a teensy bit worried, but I know you’ll be great. Don’t think this means I’ll go easy on you though!”

“Don’t you _dare_! I want to beat you at your best,” he proclaimed confidently.

Ruffling his hair, she replied, “That’ll be a long time coming!”

Heather just prayed that her brother would get through all his games safely.

~~~

She clutched Fred’s arm tightly as Rian made an abrupt dive then pulled out at the very last second. “Oh Merlin!”

George winced and rubbed his limb in sympathy. “Oh _my arm_! Would you relax?”

Her eyes remained trained on her brother, her other hand gripping her broom just in case. “How can I relax? Look at how he’s flying! Has he always flown like this?”

Hadrian landed after several rolls in the air and walked towards them. Only then did Heather release her hold on Fred’s arm.

“What’s wrong with how I fly?” he asked amusedly.

“You fly like you’re trying to outpace a _dragon_!” Heather exclaimed, still tightly-strung.

“How do you know-”

“-how _that_ looks like?”

“Have you been-”

“racing dragons-”

“- _behind our backs?”_ They actually sounded offended.

“All those random twists and sharp manoeuvres,” Heather said, tensing and releasing her fists compulsively.

“I was in control the whole time, Heather. This Nimbus is awesome, by the way. Gotta thank Professor McGonagall again. You don’t have to worry about anything, except about losing matches to Gryffindor!” Hadrian retorted cheekily.

Tittering faintly, Heather made a note to herself to look up protective amulets before the season started. That new defensive spell she wanted to learn would just have to wait.

~~~

“Why are you asking about a three-headed dog?” Heather questioned, frowning in befuddlement.

“Well,” Hadrian said sheepishly, “it’s a long story.” At Heather’s stern look, he continued quickly, “So Malfoy challenged me to a duel that day I was made seeker-”

“He _what_? Why am I hearing about this only now?” she hissed angrily, “Please tell me you didn’t agree.”

He smiled weakly. “About that… See, Ron made me, and Hermione and Neville go. Said he wasn’t a coward.” Heather was going to strangle that boy! “But Malfoy never showed. Turns out it was a ploy to get us caught by Filch.”

She snorted. “I could have told you that. He’s _Slytherin_. Even if his subtlety needs work.”

“Right, so we ran and happened upon the third floor corridor-”

“The out of bounds third floor corridor? The one where you’ll suffer a painful death? _That_ third floor corridor?”

“I’m fine! Just found a three-headed dog guarding some trapdoor or something. We bolted as soon as we saw it.”

“Smartest thing you all did that night,” Heather muttered darkly. “Did you at least bring Anguis along?” At his innocent look, she sighed. “ _Promise_ me you’ll bring her every time you go off on one of these preposterous adventures. Don’t look at me like that, you _know_ this’ll happen again.”

“I promise!” Hadrian said sincerely. “So, about that dog…”

She sighed. He wouldn’t let it go, she knew. “Cerberus. A three-headed dog that guards the gates to the Underworld, according to Greek mythology. Its weakness is music – it falls asleep.”

Heather moaned at the thoughtful look on her brother’s face. How many more protection spells could she place on that little gem?


	26. The Danger Begins

“T-troll in the d-dungeons!” Professor Quirrell shrieked before dropping in a dead faint.

Hadrian had convinced Heather to attend the Hallowe’en Feast instead of moping in her room. She really should have just skipped it like usual. A troll, really? Who was the idiot who brought a troll into Hogwarts? It certainly wasn’t intelligent enough to break in by itself.

She automatically swivelled her head to look for her brother amongst the panicking mass of students. Oh Morgana! She prayed that those two Gryffindor redheads running out of the hall were some other impetuous students. She should be so lucky.

Running after Hadrian and Ronald, she thanked whatever higher power there was for the snake she had seen hiding in Rian’s robe-sleeve. Inland taipans had the deadliest snake venom known to muggles. Inland taipans that were magically enhanced by familiar bonds? Well, Rian would be sufficiently protected.

Damn her short legs! Heather had lost sight of the two boys. Employing the Point Me spell, Heather resolved to add a tracking spell to that amulet she was almost done with.

If she’d had the time to consider it, she would have questioned why Rian had run into a girl’s bathroom. As it was, the loud scream from within hastened her pace. _Trolls have a penchant for human flesh…_

Bursting into the bathroom, she was confronted with the heart-stopping sight of three defenceless first years – one of whom was her baby brother – towered over by a gigantic troll. She had no time to think, reacting on a hair trigger.

“ _Expulso! Confringo!_ ” She incanted the strongest blunt offence spells she knew. Spellfire shot out her wand, blasting the troll into the wall with a deafening crash. A sickening crack was heard when its head hit the granite wall and it slumped to the ground. Now that it was weakened, she fired a powerful restraining spell, wandlessly reinforcing the conjured chains with a coat of dense magic.

Now that the danger was neutralised, she could focus on her brother again. Running to where the children had been cornered – _trapped_ – by the troll, she immediately cast diagnostic spells on all three.

“Oh, thank Merlin you’re alright!” Heather whispered shakily while gathering all three into a hug with trembling arms. Pulling back, she prepared to rant.

“WHAT WERE YOU THREE THINKING!” she growled viciously. “They announce a troll’s presence in the castle and what do you do? You run off unsupervised straight towards it!” Rian opened his mouth to protest or explain or whatever, but she glared until he closed it again.

“Do you know how much danger you put yourselves in? Do you even know how to fight off a troll? Surely not, with Professor Quirrell teaching.” This time, Hermione made an aborted attempt to raise her hand, as if to answer a question in class. She was wise enough to remain silent. “Troll’s skins have a high resistance to magic. The most effective spells to use would be blunt damage spells. _Confringo_ , the blasting curse. _Expulso_ , the exploding curse.”

Still shaking, Heather tugged her brother into her arms again. “I could have lost you,” she rasped into his neck.

She felt him wrap his own arms around her. “Hermione was in here during the announcement. We couldn’t leave her in the lurch.” His arms tightened. “Sorry. Thanks for saving us.”

“That’s what big sisters are for,” Heather whispered softly before releasing her grip.

She put a comforting arm around Hermione, who looked close to tears, and gave the pale-faced Ronald a comforting smile. Addressing the two boys, she said, “It was brave of you two to come after Hermione – very Gryffindor. But you should have alerted a teacher, they were all right there in the Great Hall!” They both looked at the floor, ashamed.

“Well said, Miss Potter!”

All four students spun around. There stood Professor McGonagall, flanked by Professor Snape and Professor Quirrell, who had sunk to the ground, whimpering at the sight of the bound and bloodied troll.

“It seems Miss Potter here has berated all three of you sufficiently. Of course, she should heed her own advice.” The elderly witch stared meaningfully at Heather, who returned the stare steadily. Professor McGonagall seemed satisfied by what she saw, because she nodded approvingly and continued.

“5 points each from Gryffindor for disobeying instructions. 10 points to Mr Potter and Mr Weasley for protecting a housemate.” The Transfiguration Professor then looked at her fellow Head of House.

Professor Snape looked at the downed troll and smoothly said, “5 points from Slytherin for reckless self-endangerment. 5 points for the courage to protect others in the face of danger. 10 points for adequate use of spells beyond the expected skill level.”

The Deputy Headmistress nodded in agreement. “ _Confringo_ and _Expulso_ , you said? _Incarcerous_ as well, it seems. NEWT level spells, Miss Potter. Very well done,” she said, looking impressed.

Heather blushed lightly in embarrassment. Luckily, she hadn’t fallen back on wandless magic in her panic. That would have been difficult to explain. To divert attention from her, she latched onto Rian and fussed over him.

In her preoccupation, she missed the fact that her Head of House was favouring his left leg.

~~~

Heather speed-walked from the Great Hall to the dungeons. She had been so caught up in thoughts of that defensive spell for use against dark creatures she had been working on that she had almost forgotten about her appointment. She knocked briskly on the door and entered the office.

“Professor Snape?”

The dour man looked up. “Ahh, our resident celebrity arrives. Rumour has it that you have added Cornish pixies to your repertoire of conquered creatures.”

Holding back a snicker, she said tonelessly, “Professor Quirrell seemed a tad flustered.” He had been hiding under his desk while the gnomes wreaked havoc in the classroom. “I simply lent some assistance.” She’d used a herding spell and placed them back in their cage. Then she’d asked someone to fetch Madam Pomfrey to tend to the incapacitated Professor.

Professor Snape raised a condescending brow at the mention of his colleague. “Indeed? The tales of your heroism and magical prowess have been greatly exaggerated then.” He stood and walked to the lab.

“I share that class with Gryffindors,” she said by way of explanation. Meanwhile, she observed the Professor’s usually elegant gait. Something had been off with his posture for a week now. It wasn’t very noticeable, but it was there.

“Are you injured, sir? You’re limping slightly.” Had he been wounded during the troll incident?

The man straightened and gave her a nasty look. “I am in perfect health. Your concern is unwarranted and unappreciated.” He then strode to the ingredients cupboard with his usual grace, obviously straining himself to do so.

“And here I thought your standards of perfection were much higher than that,” Heather muttered to herself. The Professor must have had sharp hearing, because he narrowed his eyes in irritation. “Have you seen Madam Pomfrey, Professor?” His silence told her all she needed to know. She looked heavenward. _Men_.

Pointing at the lab bench, she said firmly, “Sit down and let me have a look at it then, sir.”

For a moment, his carefully bland expression gave way to shock. “Excuse me?”

She gave him a cool look. “I’m sorry, would you prefer a more comfortable seat? You could transfigure it; I wouldn’t want to _presume_ , Professor.”

His glare intensified to _‘I will slowly and painfully torment you into a crying, screaming mess’_. She took no heed. “If you would rather Madam Pomfrey examine you, Professor, I’m sure she would oblige. She says you don’t take very good care of yourself.”

Now it was his ‘ _the burning fires in the deepest pits of Hell will be a blessing next to what depraved tortures I will inflict on you’_ glare. She smiled pleasantly in response and pulled the bench closer to them. Both stood there, neither willing to break down.

“It is a simple flesh wound,” he finally muttered. She hid a smug look. The unbelievably stubborn man might as well have waved a white flag.

“That you haven’t healed yourself,” she stated sceptically.

“…From a magical creature,” he capitulated. And sat down. He must have been in extreme discomfort.

“I’ll need you to uncover your wound,” she said worriedly, casting an inspection spell. At least there was no infection.

“I had not realised that you had received your Healer’s certification in the midst of your busy schedule. Clearly, I should assign more essays if you miscreants have so much idle time,” he said sarcastically, rolling up his pant-leg.

She sighed in exasperation. “I visit Madam Pomfrey occasionally. Who do you think keeps Fred and George from needing a permanent bed in the infirmary? Really, all their experiments.” Smirking slyly, she said, “You males are all the same – not willing to admit they need help.”

“Did you just liken me to the _Weasley twins_? You impertinent little brat!” the man blustered.

“Well,” she said, seeming to not have heard his words, “there’s some magical residue left from whatever creature you encountered. Mercifully, whatever it was that bit you wasn’t venomous.” He didn’t answer, still glaring at her for that earlier comment.

She focussed on the wound. It looked deep, but wasn’t bleeding anymore. It was also huge; must’ve been a large creature.

“I’ll have to draw out and dispel the residue before using any spells because the creature’s magic might react badly to healing magic,” she explained. The cautious wizard would probably be more comfortable if she clearly said everything she did to his person. She pointedly did _not_ mention that she had learnt this from an advanced text and not from the school matron. Hopefully, the Professor wasn’t very well-versed in Medimagic.

After she had gently removed all traces of foreign magic, she began knitting the flesh back together. The delicate part was done with.

“So,” she began casually, “that’s a _very_ big dog you met.” The teeth marks and magic were distinctively canine. She had her suspicions.

Heather felt him shoot her a sharp look. “Rubeus Hagrid keeps large pets.”

She hummed nonchalantly as she finished up the spell. There, good as new. “Large… Like Fang?” The Professor grunted and stood up, flexing his leg. “Or like a _cerberus_?”

He tensed and glowered down at her. “You’ve been sneaking around in places explicitly off-limits to students.” He seemed ready to take points or give detention, but she interrupted him.

“Maybe, maybe not,” she said vaguely. “There’s something dangerous going on. And I don’t mean the three-headed demon guard of the Underworld.” She took a deep breath to steel herself. “I mean something concerning Volde-”

“Do _not_ speak his name!” Professor Snape hissed furiously.

Perturbed by the usually-controlled man’s loss of composure, she spoke her next words carefully. “Hadrian’s scar has been hurting.”

Calmer now, the Professor asked, “What do you know?” His face was deadly serious, no trace of mocking or anger.

“Who did you sit next to at the Welcoming Feast?” she asked abruptly.

He looked frustrated at her non-sequitur. “What are you-” He stopped at her steady look. “Professor Sinistra. And Quirrell,” he sneered.

“Quirrell…” His malicious looks. His alert about the troll. He made the scar hurt. “It’s him.” Looking desperately at the Professor, she repeated herself. “It’s him! He’s somehow involved in this mess with Vol- You-Know-Who!”

“Quirrell? You believe that snivelling excuse of a wizard is involved? The man can hardly look into a mirror without flinching,” he said, disgusted.

“Yes!” she exclaimed and started pacing. “He _is_ all of that. But Hadrian said his scar started hurting when he looked in your direction at the Feast. I know it’s not you, and Quirrell was right next to you. Then there was the troll-”

“What makes you so certain,” he said flatly.

She looked at him, scrunching her forehead. “What do you mean, sir? I just said why. Quirrell-”

“Why are you so certain it is not me,” he spat harshly. “ _Me_ , the Greasy Git of the dungeons, bane of idiotic Gryffindors everywhere.”

Making a frustrated sound, Heather said, “This is no time for inane questions, Professor!” Seeing his unyielding glance, she groaned. “Because I _trust_ you, sir!” He flinched, as if struck.

The Professor’s gaze darkened in anger, but it wasn’t directed at her. It was inward. “Utter foolishness,” she thought she heard him whisper. He looked almost… _lost_. An eternity passed before he cleared his throat and said, “Continue. You were talking about that nincompoop.”

Heather shivered at the reminder. “His eyes… Sometimes, they flash with _evil_. He looks at people with such repugnance – _poison_ – that I wonder how no one else senses it.” She clenched her fists painfully. “When he looks at Hadrian like that,” she said shakily, “it is all I can do not to throw myself in front of him to shield him from sight.”

“Miss Potter…Miss Potter!”

Heather startled as she was shaken from her dark musings. The Professor glanced at her hands in…worry? She peered at the dripping red crescents on her palms where her nails had dug into. With a thought, she healed them. The man startled and stared intensely.

Dazedly, she looked at the man. “Professor Snape?”

He shook his head disbelievingly. “In light of your _revelations_ , Quirrell will be monitored closely. Do not, and I repeat, _do not_ attempt any Gryffindorish acts of recklessness.” The Professor looked closely at her as he said this, showing the seriousness that belied his usual snide words. She nodded solemnly.

“It seems our discussion on the Draught of Living Death shall have to be postponed.” It was a dismissal if she had ever heard one. She bowed and walked towards the door.

“Miss Potter,” he began softly as she stepped out, “your attempt at healing spells was…admirable.”

Heather smiled faintly at the closed door. Professor ‘Greasy Git’ Snape had just thanked her.


	27. Trouble in the Skies

Mind racing, Severus Snape stalked quickly to his personal quarters on his newly healed leg. He was no state to see any of his irritating students right then. Not that he _ever_ wanted to see any of them, but as it was now, he wouldn’t be able to muster the self-control to refrain from strangling them.

First, a cup of hot tea. He needed to settle himself. His mind was in disarray, occlumentic training be damned. He did _not_ want to decimate his living room – all his precious tomes were in here.

Steaming mug of chamomile infusion in hand, he allowed the scent to soothe his rattled nerves. It worked rapidly. Obviously – it was his personal blend. Now that his mind was clear, he could _think_.

Lily’s daughter- no. The girl- no. Potter-, no, just _no,_ Lyra -, Heather Lyra. Yes, Heather Lyra. It seemed that with every thing he learnt about her, he got more confused. He hated the feeling.

Wordless, _wandless_ magic? No, surely it was her wand peeking out from her sleeve? That still left nonverbal magic. That was taught in sixth year. It required a considerable amount of practice and discipline to perform. Both of which were not entirely impossible for Heather Lyra. Her stellar marks in all her subjects, even _History_ , attested to that. It was still remarkably advanced, however.

Certainly, it could very well have been accidental magic. Much more plausible considering her age. Her emotional state could have led to her magic reacting autonomously. That it resulted in a flawless healing spell – extremely rare for instinctive _accidental_ outbursts – could have simply been a testament to her knowledge of Medimagic.

But, no, Severus knew better. Heather Lyra was powerful. Very powerful. The only thing her emotional turmoil had done was make her less vigilant about showing her power. She hadn’t been shocked. Hadn’t noticed anything unusual about casting nonverbally.

He had inspected the troll after everyone had left. She had been honest about her use of the blasting and exploding curses – the cracked skull was proof enough. The binding spell though, was more than it seemed. It _did_ appear like _Incarcerous_ , yet there had been a tight layer of magic – not inherent in a classic _Incarcerous_ – woven into the spell. What that said about her abilities, Severus need more time to puzzle out.

He considered everything he knew about Heather Lyra.

Foremost was her overwhelming protectiveness of her brother. The mangled troll had found that out first-hand, though it wasn’t the only example of this. She asked about his Potions progress every chance she got. She watched over him at every meal. Then there was that new bracelet the boy sported. The one imbued with enough protective runes to give even a vampire pause. Bathsheda had marvelled at Heather Lyra’s talent with Runes. According to her, the work done on the jewellery had been highly intricate for a student.

Which brought to mind the next point. She was a model student. Top performance in all her classes. All the other teachers adored her. Not a day of detention served or a single class missed.

In contrast, Heather Lyra’s social life left much to be desired. Like all of his snakes, she was detested by the school at large. Ravenclaws were jealous of her superior intellect. Hufflepuffs were intimidated by her reputation. Gryffindors just plain hated her. However, even her fellow Slytherins avoided her, tolerating her at best for her seeker abilities. The only friends she seemed to have were those dratted Weasley twins. She appeared to share some camaraderie with Granger and Longbottom, but even Weasley Jr was averse to her presence – though it had diminished marginally since Hallowe’en.

She never appeared bothered by the hostility or enmity. Slurs, whispered or shouted, simply bounced right off her. She was perfectly polite in return, coldly dismissing them in a flawless display of superior pureblood breeding – nevermind that she had been raised by _muggles_. The consummate Slytherin. The only exception was when kith or kin were targeted. Severus remembered a certain incident with one Rhianna Rowle. Miss Rowle had steadfastly refused to speak of what Heather Lyra had done to her – or speak _at all,_ for a fortnight – for insulting Lily.

Another peculiarity was her regular disappearance act with the Weasley twins every Sunday. Her brother never left with her, which was odd in itself. It had been alarming in the beginning. Albus had been sanguine, as usual, but Severus doubted that even _he_ knew where they went. He had not resorted to tailing them in these little excursions. Yet.

The picture all these points painted was of a powerful witch who preferred learning to socialising, but made exceptions for her brother and best friends. Unexceptionally typical behaviour.

Severus _knew_ , though, that there was more to Heather Lyra than met the eye.

~~~

It was a mildly cool day. Bright sunlight, some cloud cover, but not a hint of rain. Ideal conditions for the first Quidditch match of the season.

The matches had become infinitely more tolerable since Minerva had lost all cause for gloating. The glistening trophy in his office was proof of such.

Gryffindor versus Slytherin today, and Minerva was smirking like she had gotten some cream. Utterly convinced that her new seeker would once again lead Gryffindor to victory, she had been unbearable this past week. Really, the boy was competing against his older sister. His older sister who had a year’s worth more experience and a record of catching the snitch in every game she had played.

And Minerva thought the boy who had simply caught a remembrall in his first flying lesson could beat his team. Preposterous.

The boy flew like he _wanted_ to fall off and break his scrawny neck. He was jerking wildly on his broom, looking moments away from losing his tenuous grip. He was a hazard!

Minerva didn’t seem concerned at all and neither did the boy’s teammates. Did he fly like that all the damned time?

_No_. The broom was bucking of its own accord! It was either faulty or compromised. Shifting surreptitiously, he glanced at Quirrell. His eyes were unusually focussed – straight at the boy. Suddenly, Heather Lyra’s words made perfect sense. Quirrell’s gaze was _chilling._

Furtively, his wand shot into his hand and he began a general protective chant to ward off curses and hexes. There wasn’t much he could do without knowledge of the spell being used.

Still no one had noticed, including Heather Lyra. She probably wouldn’t until the snitch was caught. She was inordinately fixated on it once matches were in session.

The boy was still close to falling. He was tiring, Severus could tell. Chanting faster, he pushed more magic through his wand. Whatever curse was being used, it remained resistant.

Several things happened at once.

Loud cheering flooded the stands. She had just caught the snitch. Relieved, Severus lowered his guard slightly. At that moment, flames erupted across his robes. Cursing harshly, he lost his concentration and faltered on the protective chant before continuing. Too late, he watched, horrified, as the boy slipped off his broom and hurtled towards the ground.

Then, it was as if everything happened in slow motion. The boy’s descent slowed to a gentle drift towards earth. Severus agonised over having to witness every. Painful. Moment. Of the boy’s imminent and gruesome demise.

Wait. The boy’s fall _had_ , in reality, slowed greatly. Like _Arresto Momentum_ had been cast, only that he hadn’t seen any spell-light. Stunned, he watched as the girl flew frantically towards her gradually-descending brother and caught him in mid-air. Together, the siblings flew slowly down.

That seemed to be the catalyst for everyone to start moving again. All the teachers rushed from the stands. Rolanda was the first there, already trying to check them for injuries.

Heather Lyra was having none of that. She was clutching desperately at her brother, refusing to let anyone near. She snarled viciously at anyone who tried to touch the unconscious boy. For a moment, Severus visualised, in his mind’s eye, another with beautiful auburn hair doing the same.

Eventually, only the Weasley twins could get her to calm down enough to let go of her death grip on her brother. Her grasp on his left hand had not diminished in the slightest, however. Even when one of the redheads carried the boy to the hospital wing.

“Severus.” Albus looked exhausted, like he had aged decades in the past hour. “Would you speak with me in my office?”

Severus nodded brusquely, though he knew that it wasn’t really a request. He followed after his master like the obedient dog he was.

After the powerful wizard settled behind his desk, he looked straight at him and asked, “What happened, Severus?”

None of those blasted lemon sherbets? Albus was really worried, then. At least they could get straight to the point.

“Quirrell,” he said curtly.

The Headmaster waited for him to elucidate. When he offered no further words, the other wizard prompted, “What about Quirinus?”

“He is working for the Dark Lord.” Albus looked obviously anxious now. He had been the one to employ the imbecile, after all.

“Are you sure, Severus? That is quite the accusation. Have you any proof?”

Severus bristled. Did Albus think him so unreliable? “Quirrell was the one who cursed the boy’s broom today.” He went on to explain about the man’s evil looks and the boy’s scar. For an unknown reason, he had not divulged Heather Lyra’s involvement in his insight.

Albus sat back in his chair and frowned thoughtfully. “We cannot be completely sure that Quirinus is the culprit. All we have to go on are conjectures. We can only observe him for now.”

Severus protested. Loudly. Albus should just fire the man and be done with it. Every second Quirrell remained in Hogwarts was additional danger to the students. “What of the Stone, Albus? He has already broken into Gringotts. It is only a matter of time before he makes an attempt on it in the castle.”

“Now Severus,” the Headmaster said placatingly, “we are still unsure of Quirinus’ involvement in this. Innocent until proven guilty.” He scoffed, maybe _Albus_ wasn’t sure, but Severus was. “Besides, we have placed several protections around the Stone. Surely you do not doubt your own contribution? Ingenious work, by the way.”

Severus narrowed his eyes. His employer would not be moved on this. Very well. “You were the one who wanted me to protect your _precious_ Potter,” he hissed. “Do not blame me when anything untoward happens to your golden boy because _you_ refused to heed my warning.”

The infuriating old man merely nodded serenely. “Of course, my boy. Thank you once again for your efforts.” Severus eagerly took the dismissal and stomped out.

His feet led him to the infirmary. Poppy had yet to pass him the list of potions she needed next month. They hardly varied from the staple Pepper-Up, Skele-gro and Bruise Paste, but Severus told himself that it was prudent to confirm it with the Mediwitch. If he took the chance to check in on one of his snakes, then it was just opportune.

It was already dark out when he stepped into the hospital wing. His meeting – _argument_ – with Albus had run on longer than expected.

The boy was lying prone on one of the stark white beds. To Severus’ knowledge, he was uninjured, but unconscious. At his side, his sister kept vigil. Due to the darkness of the room – and his morbidness – the scene looked disconcertingly like a mourning.

Severus stood right next to the bed, across from Heather Lyra. She was still clutching tightly to the boy’s wrist. She didn’t acknowledge his presence, staring intently at her brother.

“It is past curfew, Miss Potter,” he stated lowly.

The girl just blinked and tightened her hold.

He sighed inaudibly. Why were children so infuriatingly difficult to handle? “You need to return to your room.”

Finally, the girl looked up at him. Her gaze was inscrutable. He employed some light Legilimency to scan her surface thoughts and was shocked to confront a slight curtain of resistance. Nothing that would stop a full attack, but enough that she would be alerted. Heather Lyra knew occlumency? Or was it just her inherently guarded personality? Another idiosyncrasy to ponder. Would it be worth it to perform an outright _Legilimens_ to ensure she didn’t have any dangerous thoughts in mind?

She spoke before he could decide. “I can make it so that I have _another_ reason to be in the infirmary, if you don’t think this,” she waved idly to the bed, “is enough of one.” Her steady gaze showed not an ounce of hesitation. He could read the promise in them.

Too late; she had already had her dangerous thoughts. Severus did not doubt her determination to follow through on self-harm for the sake of staying by her brother’s bedside. Just as well – he now had a reason to allow her to stay where she was.

“I believe that your damaged mental state is sufficient reason for your convalescence at the infirmary. You would be a danger to both yourself and those around you otherwise. I trust you have retained enough of your senses to remain until fully recovered,” he said smoothly.

“…Thank you, sir,” she said quietly, returning her gaze to the boy.

It was only when Severus had left that he realised Heather Lyra was not holding on to the boy’s wrist, but his bracelet.


	28. Seeking Happiness

‘I’m quitting Quidditch.’

Heather had been thinking that the whole night. Sitting next to her brother who lay unconscious in a hospital bed, she had forced herself to recall every single torturous moment of the match.

Before the match had ended, before she had seen her Hadrian plummet to the ground, all she could remember was, ‘Where’s the snitch?’. She had been chasing after a useless ball while her brother fought for his life. What was _wrong_ with her? How could she have…? Rian could have _died_! Had almost died. If not for his protective bracelet.

Heather squeezed harder on the accessory. She had spent every free moment she had working on it. Paging through every relevant book she could find. Imbuing spells and raw magic into the ruby – their birthstone. Chanting blessings as she weaved strips of leather to form a band. Stitching runes of health and healing into the bracelet to bind all the magic together.

The bracelet had been the only thing she’d gotten right that day. Without it slowing Hadrian’s fall, he would have, would have…

Lost in her anguish, she didn’t notice her brother open his eyes and look blurrily around the room.

“Where ‘m I?” he slurred drowsily.

Jerking in surprise, Heather stared at her brother – her very much awake brother – before leaping off her chair and hugging him tightly.

“Heather, wha’s goin’ on?”

She buried her face in his hair and mumbled, “Someone cursed your broom. You f-fell.”

He gasped in shock and stretched his body, this way and that. “I’m alright though. Not injured at all.”

“The amulet. It saved you,” Heather said, her voice wobbling slightly. She brought his wrist up and kissed the bracelet gratefully.

Unexpectedly, Rian smiled brightly. “Y’mean, _you_ saved me. Again.”

“Hadrian-” she tried to protest.

“Darn, I was really looking forward to our first match.” He frowned, then shrugged. “At least we’ll have the other games.” Giving her a challenging look, he said, “You’d better not go easy on me because of this.”

Heather wanted to tell her brother that she would be quitting, but seeing his earnestness… She couldn’t do it! Taking a steadying breath, she said, “Well then, you’d better get out of her soon. You’ll need all the practice you can get if you want to stand a chance against me!”

She’d just have to take more precautions in the following matches.

~~~

The subsequent weeks were blissfully uneventful. If Heather periodically activated the tracking spell on Rian’s bracelet, then that was a big sister’s prerogative. Even if her friends thought she was mad.

“Heather, you’re doing it again?” George asked, exasperated.

“That’s the fourth time in _half_ as many hours!” Fred said in the exact same tone.

“Give it a rest!”

“Don’t you have an alarm if-”

“-something happens to him?”

Heather bit her lip in worry. “But it might be too late by then! What if he’s too far away for me to get to?”

“Obsessive.”

“Paranoid.”

“I’d rather be obsessive and paranoid than _grieving_ ,” she said calmly.

They threw up their hands in exasperation. Then they pestered her to stop practising that defensive spell she’d been working on and help them charm the joke hats they had.

~~~

Just before she went to bed, Heather activated the tracker again. She frowned. This was the third consecutive night that Rian was in that particular room after curfew. He had stayed there till morning the past two nights. Even if they were having the Yule holidays, curfew was still in effect. Putting on her robes again, she thought, ‘Ha, Fred and George! Who’s paranoid and obsessive now?’

She quietly slipped into the room that the tracking spell led her to. The room was sparse, empty but for a large mirror on the far wall. She couldn’t see Hadrian, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t there.

“Rian.”

A rustle of cloth, then he slipped the invisibility cloak off. He turned reluctantly from the mirror to face her.

“Heather.” He didn’t seem surprised to see her. “Look at the mirror!” He then eagerly turned back.

Frowning in concern, Heather sent a tendril of magic to the reflective glass. She couldn’t find any compulsion spells, so why was Hadrian so entranced? Since it felt pretty benign, she chanced a glance.

Oddly enough, what she saw wasn’t her reflection. Instead, she saw a man. When he turned around to face her, she gasped. Then, a woman joined his side, followed by two laughing children. The group walked happily into a beautiful cottage.

Tearing her gaze from the scene with difficulty, her eyes landed on the inscription on the golden frame.

_Erised stra ehru oy tube cafru oyt on wohsi_

She stared shrewdly at the strange phrase. Her mind cleared and she understood. This mirror, it was _tempting_. It explained why Rian had come here the past two nights.

“What do you see, Hadrian?”

In a far-away tone, he said, “You, me, Mama, Papa, lots of other relatives. We’re laughing and smiling.” Heather’s eyes misted over. _Family_. Hadrian saw family when he gazed into the mirror.

She gave him a sharp jerk to pull him out of his daze. Pointing at the inscribed letters, she urged him to read the phrase.

“Do you understand, Hadrian?” she whispered. He stilled, then nodded. _“I show not your face but your heart’s desire,”_ she read the words from front to back. “This is dangerous. It’ll be easy, so easy, for you to be consumed by the images. You know, don’t you? You’ve already spent the past few nights here.”

Hadrian turned resolutely from the mirror and took his sister’s outstretched hand. He understood now. As he walked out with her, he asked her what she had seen. She gave him a loving smile.

“I saw your future.”

~~~

Heather shot up straight, panting loudly. Images of green jets floated across her mind. She could feel the phantom pain of wrecked fingernails and the oppressing smallness of a wardrobe. Suddenly, her room was too dark. Frantically, she threw out bright balls of white light. Yes. White was safe. White repelled the green.

Shaking, she felt for Rian through the amulet. He was fast asleep in the Gryff dorms. She let out a shuddering breath and relaxed against her pillow. It would be another sleepless night then. Her nightmares had started up again after the Quidditch match.

Heather resigned herself to another night of practising that defensive spell that she still couldn’t get right. She was in the wrong state of mind for it, but it was advanced enough to take her mind off of other unsavoury things.

She picked her laurel wand up. This spell was much too intricate for her to go without the assistance in guiding her magic. Only when she was proficient would she try it wandless. Collecting her dark thoughts and locking them up, she focussed on that image of her brother she had seen in the Mirror. She cast the spell.

Tiny wisps of white spurted out of her wand. She laughed in amazement. This was the first time she had gotten _any_ results from the spell. She held on to her renewed good mood and practised until dawn broke.

~~~

Heather blew out a frustrated sigh. She hadn’t gotten any further progress with the spell. The more annoyed she got with each failed attempt, the weaker the results.

“Alright, what’s got you so sour, lil’ harpy?” Fred asked after her nth sigh.

“You’ve just been making little clouds!” George exclaimed, thrown.

She groaned and thumped her forehead on George’s shoulder. “I can’t get this spell right! I read about it in this book and I _really_ want to learn it!”

“No way-”

“-our Heather is-”

“-stumped by a spell?”

“Must be crazy hard.”

Sighing again, she thought about what she was doing wrong. She couldn’t concentrate because of all the worry she felt for Hadrian. Every time she tried to cheer herself up with memories of him, she just brooded about the danger he was in. While nothing had happened since the match, she would still lose focus and the spell would slip from her grasp.

“What do you think joy is?” she asked suddenly.

They gave her odd looks. “Jokes, of course!”

At her dubious expression, they explained.

“No, listen.”

“That moment when a great prank-”

“-is perfectly executed and-”

“-everyone laughs together!”

“ _That_ is what we live for!” they said, eyes shining excitedly.

Blinking thoughtfully, she considered their words. _Laughter_. The instant when unadulterated happiness bubbled over and vocalised itself. When no shadows or gloom invaded the light. Perfect.

~~~

Easier said than done.

What made her laugh? Heather compiled a list, even. Rian’s antics sometimes did, but they mostly gave her a headache. (Because really, a baby _dragon_?) Fred and George’s pranks, occasionally, but it was more of exasperated amusement. Catching the snitch…not since that match.

She looked hopelessly around her room. Was she really so staid that she couldn’t find anything that made her laugh? Resignedly, she sat on her bed and grabbed a book. Perhaps she would try again tomorrow before she worked herself into a fever.

_This Book is Property of the Half-Blood Prince_

Just what she needed after a frustrating day. She had already read this one (in fact, she’d already read all the Prince’s books) but it never got boring. Heather ran her fingers over the familiar writing, greeting the book like an old friend. Indeed, it almost _was_.

She could even recite most of her Prince’s comments.

_“Oh, marvellous job, Thistledown. Yes, do add the crushed moonstone to the Dreamless Sleep. Insomniacs certainly desire to sleepwalk during the little time they slumber,”_ Heather drawled mockingly. She laughed delightedly at his acerbic comments, wiping stray tears from her eyes.

Heather stilled. She looked at the book in her hands, then at the stack on her desk. She brightened.

Apparently, she had a satirical sense of humour.

~~~

“Fred, George!” Heather crowed as she ran into the Den. “I did it! I did the spell!”

“Brilliant, knew you could do it!” George cheered, ruffling her messy black hair.

“Now you can actually tell us what spell it was,” Fred said dryly, “Or better yet, show us.”

She smiled widely, flushed in excitement. “It’s really great! I took your advice, about the laughter. Wow, the spell was just _amazing_! It was still really hard at first, but I’ve been practising and practising. It’s much easier now-”

“HEATHER!” they shouted, “Just do the spell!”

At their expectant faces, she blushed deeper, feeling inexplicably shy all of a sudden. Centring her thoughts, she waved her wand.

“ _Expecto Patronum!”_


	29. Obsession and Paranoia

Heather put her quill down just as the time charm rang. She confidently handed her scroll in and walked out of the room. With the HoM paper done, she had officially finished all her exams this term.

Out of nowhere, someone knocked into her from behind. “Oops, sorry Heather. Didn’t see you there!” Her eye twitched tetchily at Fred’s remark. The twins had been making size jokes ever since they had seen her Patronus.

“Gred! You should be more careful!” Heather smiled at George’s disapproving mien. Perhaps he was finally getting over these jokes. “She can be quite delicate you know!” And _that_ hope died a swift death.

Shaking her head despairingly, she stalked to the Great Hall for lunch. She would need sustenance to deal with them. “Really, guys, these jokes would be marginally funny if I were male. Now, people just think you’re being mean.”

“Ah ah,” Fred said, smiling meaningfully, “but our _small_ group knows what these jibes are about. Don’t we, Forge?”

“Of course Gred. But where did Heather learn about lewd size jokes?” Wiping an imaginary tear, he said, “Our _little_ girl’s all grown up!”

“See if I ever show you guys any new spells again, if this is what I get,” she muttered irritably.

“Oh come on Heather. You _know_ your Patronus is totally awesome.” Fred’s eyes were wide and pleading, begging for forgiveness.

“Yeah Heather,” George said, grinning mischievously, “it’s just a _tiny_ bit of teasing.”

Heather groaned and whacked them lightly. “Incorrigible. Let’s just go for lunch.”

~~~

“Hey FredGeorge, do you think those three are acting a little weird today?” Hadrian, Ronald and Hermione had been shooting odd glances at Professor Snape and whispering feverishly. Then they had disappeared for most of the day, only showing up briefly for dinner.

“Must be scheming. They’ve got our genes, after all. Well, except Hermione, but peer pressure is a strong thing.”

“Did you see how they were eyeing old Snape? My bet’s on red and gold hair tomorrow.”

Heather brushed off that comment. As if three firsties could get one over Professor Snape. He was much too vigilant for _that_. “They looked pretty stressed and nervous. D’you think they’re in trouble?”

“Really, Heather, stop harping on it.”

“Yeah. Paranoid and obsessive, remember?”

“We know you’re a bit – we mean, a _lot_ – protective-”

“-but give the boy some breathing space!”

“We should be celebrating.”

“The exams are _over_!”

Fred then tried to pluck her book out of her hands. Heather swatted him away and tucked it into her robes. It was one of her Prince’s books.

“Come on, then,” she said, “where are those pins you wanted to charm?” They were planning to make all the Gryffindors roar tomorrow.

~~~

Heather slid under her covers and did her customary check on her brother. As usual, Hadrian was tucked…safely…in…the _third floor corridor_?! She leapt out of bed, summoning her robes and wand.

It didn’t have to mean anything. Just one of Rian’s night-time wanderings. He occasionally walked all the way to the dungeons too. Heather was probably rushing there like a lunatic just to find her brother ambling about in his pyjamas and invisibility cloak. Then she would chastise him for walking on the cold stone floors barefoot. Simple.

Except nothing ever was, with her brother.

Because just then, her link to the amulet flared dangerously. Because there was a three-headed dog drooling next to a huge trapdoor. Because of the devil’s snare and flying keys and giant chess set and-

She stopped short. There was Ronald Weasley, lying limply amongst the graves of vanquished knights and rooks. All Heather could see at the moment was an injured child. Even if he was a bigoted, lazy and rude little boy. A quick scan revealed several shallow scrapes and a light head injury. She didn’t even bother using a spell, just wandlessly healing everything. Ronald regained consciousness soon after, just in time to see Hermione run into the chamber.

“Hermione!” Heather spoke sharply, interrupting the frantic muggleborn’s babbled explanations. “Where. Is. Hadrian?”

“Through there,” she pointed to a door, “He went to confront Professor Snape!”

Professor _Snape_? What- No, not important right now. “Leave, go get help!” she shouted behind her as she ran through the door. She passed a room with a dead troll (from Hallowe’en?) and another with just a long table with several phials. Not pausing to contemplate the oddity, she rushed ahead.

To see two figures fall to the floor with echoing thuds.

Heart thundering, she sprinted to her brother and sank to the ground beside him. She forced herself to think calmly. Okay, Hadrian was breathing. Good.

Next priority, unknown man. She cast a wandless binding spell, stronger than the one she’d used on the troll, and levitated him in front of her. The man was hideous, sporting what looked like fourth degree burns everywhere. Some parts were even singed black. She found herself viciously satisfied – and then disgusted with herself.

Another burst of magic allowed her to gently cradle her baby brother in her arms. He wasn’t injured or cursed, just magically exhausted. He was also whimpering slightly, so Heather rocked him softly and quietly hummed their lullaby.

She walked calmly – _too_ calmly – out of the passage. Climbing out of the trapdoor would have jostled her precious burden, so she levitated a slab of granite beneath her feet. If Headmaster Dumbledore was shocked to see two students float out of the trapdoor with a charred corpse trailing closely behind, he maintained his composure well enough. _That_ , or Heather hadn’t cared to notice anything outside the warm bundle ensconced in her arms.

“Hadrian needs to see Madam Pomfrey,” she heard herself say faintly. Perhaps someone had offered to carry him – Headmaster Dumbledore? Professor Snape? – but she just released the _Mobilicorpus_ on what used to be Quirrell and preceded them to the infirmary.

Heather didn’t snap out of her trance until Madam Pomfrey asked her to loosen her grasp. She realised she was still hugging her brother, preventing the inspection. Slowly, as if relearning how to work her limbs, she released her vice grip, leaving only his left wrist in her hold. She wanted to laugh hysterically at the parallels.

“Just some cuts and bruises. No curse, jinx or hex residue. Third degree magical exhaustion,” Heather rattled off tonelessly.

The Mediwitch nodded. “Just so. Your diagnostic spells have come a long way, Heather. Mr Potter will be fine with a few days’ rest.”

“Yes, physically fine,” she stated woodenly. The matron pursed her lips and remained silent.

It might have been hours later or just a few seconds when the Headmaster spoke. “Heather, will you tell me what happened tonight?”

Dragging her gaze from her brother, she looked at the other people in the room – and the corpse. Maybe they had noticed her staring, because the Headmaster conjured a sheet to cover him- no, _it_.

“I realised Hadrian was at the third floor corridor and followed after him.” She remembered to omit how she knew that. “Met Hermione and Ron, told them to get help. Then I found Hadrian,” _and once-Quirrell_ , “and you found us.”

The elderly wizard frowned thoughtfully at her highly summarised recount. “Is that all, my girl?”

Of course it wasn’t. She hadn’t talked about her fevered desperation as she ran out of her room. Hadn’t mentioned the way her heart almost stopped when she saw Ronald lying on the ground and thought, for a moment, he was Hadrian. Hadn’t said that her heart _did_ stop when she saw that the falling body (so similar to another with longer, redder hair) _was_ Hadrian.

She simply stated, “The Philosopher’s Stone was destroyed in the confrontation.”

It was _so_ easy now, in hindsight, to deduce the purpose of that cordoned off corridor filled with traps. She didn’t know how three first years had found out, but all those questions about Nicholas Flamel suddenly made sense. And she’d thought Rian had developed an interest in alchemy.

“I see,” Professor Dumbledore said slowly, “and how did-”

“That is quite enough, Albus!” Professor Snape snapped angrily, “The reckless girl is clearly in no state for your inquisition after her shenanigans tonight.”

The other wizard inclined his head. “Of course, my apologies, Heather. Why don’t we postpone this discussion until Hadrian has recovered? Meanwhile, I have a few matters I must be attending to.”

Just as the Headmaster was leaving, Heather spoke up. “Professor Dumbledore. A few questions to ponder, if I may.” She looked up, eyes burning with green fire. “How could you have allowed this to happen? What kind of flimsy protections did you employ that allowed, not only Quirrell, but _first years_ to pass through? Why did you even _hire_ him in the first place, as incompetent as he had portrayed himself?”

The man’s shoulders seemed to slump more with each accusation she hurled at him. “I am very sorry that my mistakes have caused your brother harm. No one regrets this more than I.”

Heather’s expression clearly said ‘I doubt so’, but she nodded her head and turned back to her brother. His regret wasn’t a drop in the ocean of her own.

“I should rightly take points for your impudence,” Severus said once his employer had left, “but I am tempted to award them instead.” The absolute shock on Albus’ face had been highly entertaining.

“I simply spoke the truth. Hadrian could have died,” Heather Lyra said dully.

This blankness was unnerving. She was clearly in shock. How else could a thirteen-year-old have levitated the burnt corpse of a man that her younger brother had killed without batting an eye? Shock – or possessed of exceedingly morbid interests.

“House elf,” he ordered tersely. One of Hogwarts’ elves popped into the room.

“Miss Heather! What be yous doing here?” the diminutive creature squeaked. Severus frowned in surprise. How did Heather Lyra become acquainted with a house elf?

She smiled tiredly at the disgustingly cheery being. “Hello Mipsy.” She knew its _name_? “Rian got into some trouble, so he’s to stay here for a few days.”

The elf’s eyes bulged out and for a horrifying moment, Severus thought that it would start bawling. “Elf,” he snapped, “Miss Potter requires sugary food immediately.”

“Of course, Professor Snape sir! Mipsy be getting the sweetest treats for dear Miss Heather right away!” _Dear_ Miss Heather? What had the blasted girl done – held court in the kitchens?

The elf returned promptly. Not with the simple sugar rolls Severus had expected. No, the eager thing brought with it a large tray laden with the most saccharine desserts he had ever seen. He mentally recoiled at the sweets. The food was supposed to snap her out of her shock, not put her into an entirely different one.

A weak chuckle stopped his impending diatribe in its tracks. “Oh, Mipsy, you brought all of my favourites. Is that your lovely treacle tart I see? Thank you so much!”

Dear _Mordred_. The girl was actually _partial_ to these syrupy confections?

The house elf blushed at the praise. “Mipsy be glad to helps. Mipsy wishes Mr Hadrian gets better soon!” it said in gratingly ungrammatical language before disappearing.

Reaching for the treacle tart, the girl said, “Thank you as well, Professor. I really need the comfort food after what happened.”

Obviously, that not been Severus’ objective at all. The sugar was purely for suppressing Heather Lyra’s stress response. An emotional breakdown would be just wearisome. That she enjoyed the cloying food merely saved him the hassle to forcing it down her throat.

However, it was vaguely sickening to watch her consume a month’s worth of sugar in one sitting.

At least she looked more lively than an inferius now. Satisfied that the foolish brat wouldn’t collapse at the next stray breeze, Severus left to tend to his own duties.

After placing his own alarm spell on the room. It was simply his duty as Head of Slytherin to ensure the well-being of all his snakes.


	30. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING for this chapter. Contains abuse. Not extremely explicit, but just in case, I had to say it. Please skip that part over if you don't want to read it.

Raucous cheering and catcalls broke out at the Gryffindor table. Heather’s face was fixed into a moue of disgust. Gryffindor had just won this year’s House Cup even though Slytherin was once again the Quidditch Champion.

However, that wasn’t what Heather had a problem with. She couldn’t care less about such trivialities. No, what she took exception to was _what_ had allowed the lions to win.

Points. The damnable old coot had awarded _House Points_. To Hadrian, Ronald and Hermione. And for what? For impetuousness, taking unnecessary risks and breaking school regulations! For putting themselves in harm’s way! It was as if the Headmaster actually _approved_ of their behaviour!

Heather glowered fiercely at the jovial wizard. She thought it was a very effective look. She had Professor Snape as an example, after all. Unfortunately, burning glances weren’t _Incendios_. If they were, the potion classrooms would erupt in _Fiendfyre_ every day.

She would be having another talk with Hadrian later. Just in case Professor Dumbledore had given him any _ideas_.

Heather didn’t understand the aged wizard. He didn’t seem at all worried about her brother running off into danger. He even subtly _encouraged_ such undertakings!

It had been frightening to find out that Voldemort wasn’t entirely dead, but to hear that he was gunning for Hadrian had revived her nightmares with a vengeance. Only now she had more _delightful_ memories to add to the cocktail.

But Headmaster Dumbledore, he had said that they needed a someone to ensure that Voldemort never came into power again. Heather knew who he wanted his champion to be. Not if she had anything to say about it. _No way._

Anyway, that was part of why Heather and Hadrian found themselves packed off to another riveting summer at Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. Heather would have to research blood wards and sacrificial magic.

~~~

It chafed dreadfully to be cooped up in the Cupboard Under the Stairs after being accustomed to the large expanse of Hogwarts grounds.

They barely fit into the space anymore. Even though they were both still petite (shut up, GredForge), they _had_ grown a couple of inches, Hadrian even more. With the surplus of food and exercise, it was inevitable. They resigned themselves to an exceptionally cramped summer.

Lucky for them, Hagrid had agreed to take care of Anguis and Hedwig over the holidays. Now, if only they could take proper care of _themselves_ at the Dursleys’ non-existent mercy.

The horrible tension in the house had mounted since the last summer. Heather told herself to just bear with it. A few more weeks and they would be totally free. _That_ , she had been assured of, at least.

So why did the feeling of foreboding dog her footsteps?

~~~

Hadrian mumbled incoherently when Heather got out of their cot. She shushed him gently and shuffled to the door.

It was slightly after midnight when she woke from a rare nightmare-free sleep. She shouldn’t have drunk that last cup of chamomile. Groggily, she fumbled with the locks and made her way to the bathroom.

An odd clicking sound startled her as she was leaving the toilet. She paused, straining her ears. Nothing. Her mind was playing tricks on her. She _really_ needed more sleep. Perhaps Dreamless Sleep potion? If she added more mint and less bergamot, maybe the addictive properties would –

Heather was slammed painfully into the wall. A bulky hand grasped her neck, choking her. She immediately starting clawing at the appendage, trying to gulp in precious oxygen.

“ _Frreak_! How’d ya get outta da cup-cupboard!” _Vernon!_ The damn pig was drunk! “Dirrty frreaksss like ya needa stay l-locked up!” he slurred, tightening his fist.

Heather’s eyes widened in fear and she tried to gather her magic. But, she couldn’t… couldn’t _breathe_! Panicking, she struggled uselessly against the man. She dug her nails deep into Vernon’s arm, hoping to make him recoil in shock. She made desperate little inhalations at the momentary loosening.

It only served to fuel his inebriated rage. His nostrils flared widely. “Ya bitch! Dare ta threat’n me, do ya! Where’s ya frreaky powers now!” Smirking cruelly, he grabbed her wrist with his free hand and twisted sharply. “Can’t use dat stick now!”

Shrieking loudly, Heather renewed her struggles, pushing against the hulking man. Her arm flared in agony. Her broken wrist was _excruciating_. Her efforts were in vain; her captor was easily thrice her size.

An unholy light entered his beady eyes and he gave a sick smile. A sweaty hand pawed roughly up her thighs, abdomen, chest. “Only one good use for ya, _whore_.”

Heather jerked violently at the insinuation. She fruitlessly tried to back away, but she was losing strength. Black spots dotted her vision. No, _no!_ She had to get away!

Again, she tried to call up her magic. It kept slipping from grasp. Not enough focus! Lungs screaming for air! No, no, no, _no_ -

The grabby hand was wrenched violently from her at the exact moment the vice around her neck was ripped away. The vile pig was thrown against the opposite wall and pinned up by an invisible force.

Gulping feverishly, she slid to the floor. Hands grabbed her shoulders and she flinched violently, pushing the person away. Finally, she could reach her magic and she flung it outwards viciously. The sound of furniture breaking was deafening.

“Heather, Heather! It’s me, Hadrian!”

Hadrian? She had to get to him! She blinked rapidly to clear her vision. Why was everything blurry? Her face was wet. Hadrian’s anxious face came into view.

“Rian?” she whispered. With trembling hands, she pulled him close. “S-sorry! Did I hurt you? That blast of magic!” A quick inspection revealed him to be unharmed. “Sorry, I’m sorry!”

“Ssh, Heather. It’s okay, I’m fine. We’re fine,” Hadrian cooed soothingly. He glared menacingly at the disgusting man stuck to the wall. He tightened the magical restraints, taking vindictive pleasure from making the man gasp for air.

Heather followed her brother’s gaze and flinched again. They had to go. Standing shakily, she murmured, “We have to leave. Now. Rian!” Their shrunken trunks came flying out of the cupboard. They hadn’t bothered unpacking. Another wandless spell knocked Vernon out.

Wordlessly, Hadrian followed his sister’s lead as she snuck into Mrs Figg’s house. As expected, his sister stumbled into his arms as she stepped out of the floo. He hadn’t anticipated Mr and Mrs Weasley’s appearance though. But of course they had an alarm on their floo. He held back a swear. It wouldn’t be easy to answer their questions. Heather didn’t need this right now.

So he grabbed a Sleeping Draught from one of their trunks and coaxed her into taking it. It was a testament to how out of it she was that she hadn’t recognised it on sight and rejected it.

“Oh heavens! What happened to you two?” Mrs Weasley exclaimed. Then she looked closer at his sister. “What happened to _Heather?_ ” She carried her to the sofa and began examining her.

He knew what she was seeing. Red handprints around her neck. Bones protruding from the skin at her broken right wrist. Clothes torn and ripped. More handprints peeking from exposed skin. The image was seared into his mind.

“Here, Hadrian.” Mr Weasley handed him a cup of hot chocolate. “It’ll warm you up and make you feel better.”

Hadrian accepted it with a wobbly smile. He could hear his sister in his mind now. _‘Chocolate has healing properties and is often consumed after traumatic situations.’_ Then she’d pointedly eat her fourth slice of chocolate cake.

He heard Mrs Weasley gasp – she must’ve found the bruises on Heather’s thighs.

“So Ron tells me you were made seeker. That’s impressive! The youngest in centuries, wasn’t it? What’s your strategy for games?” Mr Weasley said in a forced jovial tone.

Hadrian eagerly grabbed the supplied distraction. So to avoid collapsing into tears, he talked about damned Quidditch.

It was easier to remember his sister as pure grace on a broom than a trembling mess on the floor.

~~~

“Would you like to rest first, Hadrian? We can talk about this in the morning.” Mrs Weasley looked worriedly at him, as if he would keel over at any given moment. Maybe he would.

“I would like to just get it over with, please.”

The couple exchanged unreadable looks. “Okay, will you tell us what happened?”

Taking a deep breath, he tried to be as concise as possible. “Our _Uncle_ ,” he spat out, “was drunk.”

“Your Uncle?!” Mrs Weasley hissed furiously. She stood, as if to go seek him out right now.

Mr Weasley put an arm around her shoulders and calmed her down before saying, “You two are welcome to stay here, Hadrian.”

“In fact, we insist on it!” Mrs Weasley added, still looking angry.

“Thank you. We won’t be any trouble, I promise!”

For some reason, Mrs Weasley had a teary-eyed look at his declaration.

~~~

Waking up was a painfully slow resurfacing from a thick miasma of slumber. _Drugged_ slumber. Heather rubbed her eyes tiredly, trying to remember – Privet Drive. Vernon. Hadrian. Burrow. Sleeping Draught. _Oh_.

Sitting up quickly, she winced at the aches and pains in her body. She gasped. Her injuries! She hadn’t healed them before coming to the Burrow. The Weasleys were sure to have lots of questions. And she couldn’t even heal them now that they had seen the bruises. At least her wrist had been mended.

Tracing the dark purple colouration up her thighs and stomach, she shuddered in disgust. Her heart started beating wildly as flashes of the previous night played unbidden in her mind. Being pinned to the wall. A large hand crushing her windpipe. Another hand, roving all over, squeezing. _‘Only one good use for ya, whore.’_

A loud thump downstairs jerked her out of her memories. No, she couldn’t leave these marks on her skin. Not without being reminded.

Heather fumbled clumsily with her trunk, swiping up the plain phial filled with Bruise Paste. It was the Prince’s recipe, designed to be twice as effective. She had made only one adjustment to it. By adding a single diricawl feather, the paste also acted as a mild concealer.

She spread a liberal amount of it over her skin, calming greatly upon seeing it work its magic. Her skin looked totally free of discolouration again – even if she could still feel the slight tenderness of almost-healed welts.

She flinched as a knock sounded on the door and Mrs Weasley popped her head in. “Heather, dear? Are you awake?”

Heather tried to slow her breathing. For a moment, she had imagined a much larger man coming through a smaller door. But Vernon would never have knocked first, he’d have just shoved his way in. Not like the obese man could have fit in the cupboard, anyway.

“G-good morning, Mrs Weasley. Sorry for the trouble last night,” Heather tried to say brightly. She didn’t think she fooled the Weasley matriarch. It might have been her wide eyes or shaking hands that gave it away.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that, dear. Are you feeling better?” Mrs Weasley asked, full of concern. Her eyes glanced over Heather’s pristine skin in puzzlement.

“I’m right as rain! Just applied some Bruise Paste,” Heather said, holding up her phial.

“Must be _some_ Bruise Paste,” the woman muttered unthinkingly. Heather winced at the reminder. The bruises had been _brutal_. “Are you well enough for breakfast?” Mrs Weasley asked quickly, looking guilty for her careless words.

Heather nodded immediately, eager to escape the awkward conversation. Stepping out of the room, she saw a large shadow emerge from another room. She recoiled violently, almost tripping in her haste to backtrack.

“Heather?” a low, soothing voice asked. Vernon didn’t sound like that. He had a raspy voice from all the bellowing he did. Her mind cleared and she saw Mrs Weasley and Charlie looking at her anxiously.

Heather forced a laugh. “Didn’t notice you there, Charlie. Have you always moved so silently? Must be all that sneaking around dragons.”

They weren’t convinced.

Heather seated herself between Hadrian and Ginny at the chair closest to the door. Her brother squeezed her hand, almost painfully, and she returned it. She didn’t know if anyone noticed her unusual placement. The twins probably did, since she usually sat next to them. She wondered guiltily if this would be another secret to keep from her best friends.

At first, she held herself stiffly, darting her gaze around the room. As the meal progressed, though, she gradually relaxed at the domestic atmosphere. The Weasley children bickered teasingly amongst themselves and their parents chided them.

Heather smiled faintly at the homely scene and soaked up the feeling of family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise this will be the last time Heather and Hadrian have to endure the Dursleys' abuse. They will get their comeuppance, but not soon. Eventually. I found it difficult to write this, so forgive me if the scene was so abrupt.


	31. Moving On

It was with relief that Heather returned to Hogwarts for her fourth year. She needed the classes and magic to preoccupy her time and thoughts. She needed someone who wouldn’t treat her like glass, who wouldn’t be afraid to disagree or argue with her.

She felt thankful to the Weasleys, immensely so. Not only because they took her and her brother in. She was certain that Mr and Mrs Weasley hadn’t told anyone about what happened, at her behest. Still, they had all been very understanding of Heather’s…peculiarities that summer.

They had been worried, Heather could tell. It had been a startling realisation at the time. It had been in the frowns when Heather flinched from anyone taller (which was mostly everyone) except for Rian. At first, she’d thought they were put out by her skittishness – as she herself was. However, when Charlie had started stomping around the house to broadcast his approach, everyone had followed suit.

The attention had been smothering, though. Mrs Weasley had fretted and fussed. The boys had all been tentative, even the boisterous Ronald. Even sweet, clueless Ginny had picked up on her brothers’ cues. What they didn’t realise was that all that had served as a constant reminder of the incident.

Eventually, Heather had retreated into her Prince’s books. His sharp and cutting tongue (well, _quill_ ) remained unchanged. She sought refuge in the constancy of his prickly tone, his slanted writing. Escaping into the Prince’s world had given her the space to heal from the trauma Vernon wrought.

That was thrice now that the Prince had saved her. The detection spell that identified Petunia’s poisoning attempt. The Bruise Paste that healed her physical wounds. The acerbic wit that healed her emotional ones.

Heather took to carrying one of her Prince’s books everywhere. His steady presence bolstered her courage. She stopped flinching at everyone and avoiding their eyes. It was when she spoke at the dinner table after an uplifting read that she realised how long it had been since she’d last heard her own voice.

Now, perhaps if she pranked the twins during the Welcome Feast they would stop tiptoeing around her.

~~~

“Would you guys stop it already?” Heather exclaimed frustratedly. “You guys have been pussyfooting about since I turned up this summer! I’m fine, no need to treat me like an invalid!” Fred and George had kept up their awkward demeanour even a month into school. She really couldn’t tolerate it anymore. Even her brother had backed off, knowing how much she hated the kiddy gloves.

They looked at each other worriedly. Then, Fred seemed to come to a decision and nodded at his brother, who frowned heavily.

“It’s just that…Heather, something happened to you this summer and it wasn’t good. All we know is that you suddenly show up, all jittery and withdrawn, though you’ve mostly reverted back to your old self already.”

George spoke up next. “Mum wouldn’t tell us anything, but we know it’s something bad. You know you can tell us anything, right? If you need to talk? We can help.”

Heather stared at her friends. Her two _bestest_ friends. They looked so earnest and worried that she felt horribly guilty for causing it. It had to be a crime to make these high-spirited people so weighed down.

There was so much they didn’t know about her – so much she’d deliberately hidden from them. She steeled herself.

“Hadrian and I… Our relatives don’t like us much,” she began haltingly. It was strange to verbalise it. She and Rian rarely spoke of it so seriously. Levity was a coping mechanism, a way to derive some amusement.

In fits and starts, she told Fred and George of life at Number 4 Privet Drive. She spoke of the darkness and cold, the hunger and fear. Leaving out the wandless magic for now, knowing that that would be a separate conversation. Eventually, she hit upon the incident which had driven them out of their relatives’ house. When she finished _that_ particular tale without a tear shed, she knew she would be able to get past this, just like all previous trials.

The twins sat silent throughout her monologue. Their expressions spoke loudly enough. Confusion, then anger and sorrow and worry. In the end, they settled on furious indignation.

“We’re gonna kill that man,” they stated matter-of-factly. “Of course, the woman has it coming too. Let’s throw in the boy as well.” They strode to the door, as if they could leave school grounds now to commit murder. This would have been oddly reminiscent of their mother’s reaction, had Heather been conscious to witness it.

Huffing exasperatedly, she grabbed their arms and forced them back into their seats. “You can’t just kill them!”

“You’re right, of course, Heather.”

“We have to torture them first.”

She made an annoyed sound and said, “No, you have to leave them alone!” They were being so reckless! The Gryffindors. “They’re not going to be an issue anymore; I’m working on it.”

But…there was a large part of her that was _so_ pleased to have them contemplate homicide for her sake. She wondered what that said about her.

“We could try the Chinese water torture!” George said over her protests, “Subtle yet excruciating, I’ve been told.”

“Nah. I wanna make it _really_ brutal for them. How about we tie each of their limbs to a horse – no, a dragon and release them in different directions?” Fred said evilly.

Heather couldn’t help it – she laughed. Morbid and dark sense of humour be damned. She thought, idly, of making a Patronus of _this_ moment,

When her mirth finally subsided, she noticed that George and Fred were looking at her intently. Embarrassed, she said, “What, never seen a girl laugh before?”

They shook their heads dazedly, then grinned.

“Nope, this is the first time since – y’know.”

“And it’s all thanks to us! The Kings of Laughter!”

Surprised, she considered her words. “It _is_ , isn’t it?” She smiled. “Thank you, Kings Weasley.”

“Does that mean we can continue plotting-”

“-the Dursleys’ torment and eventual demise?”

~~~

It might be the first time that Heather was so profoundly grateful for her near-pariah status. She was given quite a large berth by everyone outside her social circle – which was so small it was practically a dot. Though she had mostly recovered from the scare, she was still uncomfortable with unfamiliar males. Which pretty much meant that only the Weasleys and Hadrian could approach her without triggering her full alert.

How Heather landed herself in the current predicament was anyone’s guess.

“Heather Potter, we meet again!” Gilderoy Lockhart’s booming voice echoed in the dungeons. Heather affected a smile in return. She and Hadrian had met the new DADA Professor at Flourish and Blotts where he had been holding a book-signing.

“Oh, no need to be shy, Heather!” the smarmy man said, giving a million-watt smile.

She backed away surreptitiously. The man was getting _much_ too close for comfort and she was alone right now.

“I’ve seen you looking at me, you know? No need for embarrassment; everyone has crushes,” he continued, oblivious to her distress.

Staring incredulously at the man, she continued to shift away. She had, indeed, been looking at him a lot – but only because she couldn’t believe how useless he was. The man’s books were clearly all rubbish, He wouldn’t be able to defeat a flobberworm, much less a vampire, ghoul or whatnot. The only thing he was proficient at was narcissism.

“My dear girl, you don’t have to look so worried! You’re not in trouble; I don’t blame you for your feelings. Perfectly natural. Teenaged witch, powerful and handsome wizard.” Then he put his arm around her shoulder ignoring all her warning signals.

She stiffened, holding back her instinct to throw his arm off, or better yet – _rip_ his arm off. There was no one else around and the arrogant idiot was closing in. His arm! _Too near her neck!_ She could feel her magic rising and she forced herself to kept a tight hold on her wand. Just one pulse of magic and –

“Just what do you think you are doing, Lockhart?” The arm around her shoulders was jerked roughly away and a tall figure stepped in front of her, blocking her from view.

Heather sagged in relief, letting her magic dissipate harmlessly. She was safe. _This_ person wouldn’t let anything happen to her. She clutched tightly onto the back of the man’s black robes.

“I repeat: what business do you have with one of my Slytherins?”

Lockhart raised his hands in a show of peace. “Now, Snape, no harm done. We were just discussing some sensitive topics. You know how girls are, can’t just go around spilling their secrets! I’m a gentleman!”

Professor Snape sneered menacingly, though Heather couldn’t see it from her vantage point. “Be that as it may, the situation I found you in was highly compromising. It is utterly inappropriate of you to be so forward with any of your students, especially female ones.” He growled threateningly. “Do not approach Miss Potter or any of your students so presumptuously again, you lecherous nincompoop!”

He then gestured for Heather to precede him to his office, which was just down the hallway. Oh, he must have come looking for her when she hadn’t arrived at 7pm sharp. She thanked Merlin for her usual fastidious punctuality.

A cup was pushed into her hands when she settled into what she was beginning to think of as ‘her’ chair in his office. The soothing smell of lavender and chamomile relaxed her enough to thank the Professor.

“You’re quite welcome. You looked,” he paused seeming to revise his words, “uncomfortable.”

She smiled wryly, “Our illustrious Professor Lockhart was labouring under the impression that I harboured certain affections for him.” The Professor’s brows rose disbelievingly, she was glad to note. “I’m not sure whether he was trying to let me down gently or encouraging me.” She grimaced, showing her distinctly non-positive opinion of the delusional wizard. “Fortunately for me, you swooped in to my rescue.”

“Fortuitous for Lockhart, rather. You looked seconds away from blasting him to smithereens. Perhaps I should not have intervened until after the fact,” Professor Snape said dryly.

Blushing, Heather took a sip of her tea. Had she been that obvious? Anyway, Lockhart had practically been _begging_ for it, the disgusting sod. “Perhaps,” she ventured.

“I dare say the man’s next novel will be titled _Hobnobbing with Harpies_ ,” the Professor murmured smoothly.

Heather laughed in surprise. Had Professor Snape just made a joke? Of the twins’ nickname for her, of all things? Her laughter dissolved into giggles. Even _he_ smirked slightly in amusement.

Still, the Professor snapped curtly, “Cease this puerile behaviour at once. Veritaserum is advanced and will require all of your focus.”

Smiling to herself, Heather went to gather the ingredients she would need. She stood corrected. The Weasleys and Hadrian weren’t the only ones on the list. There was _one_ more male she trusted.


	32. Hunkering with House Elves

Hallowe’en. It was _always_ this day. Against her better judgment, Heather had again been persuaded to attend the Feast – this time by Fred and George. If she’d stayed in her room in the dungeons, perhaps she’d have been able to prevent Hadrian from encountering such a sight.

Someone, or _something_ , had petrified Mrs Norris. Words had been scrawled onto the wall in what seemed to be blood.

_THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED_

_ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE_

Now everyone was looking accusingly at her brother – as if he had anything to do with it except its discovery. Really, Hadrian wasn’t even a Slytherin. He couldn’t possibly have opened the Chamber of Secrets. Of course, because it was the logical conclusion, no one else thought so.

Heather also recognised that gleam in her brother’s eyes. That damnable look that spoke of curiosity of an unsolved mystery. After spending the whole of last year looking at it, she was quite familiar now. Hadrian would snoop around relentlessly until he puzzled out this new conundrum.

He and his friends had asked for help brewing Polyjuice Potion, for goodness sake! Heather had agreed to help, if only to prevent them from messing up the finicky potion themselves. She knew how tenacious her brother was. He would have found the recipe elsewhere on his own and attempted to brew it himself.

She’d extracted a promise from him to use it carefully though. What she _hadn’t_ done was ask him what he needed it for. She didn’t think her heart could take it.

~~~

The first Quidditch match of the term was Lions versus Snakes again. She had always wondered why this was so. Pitting the two rivals against each other for one of the most anticipated matches of the season only engendered more hatred.

Oddly enough, Heather was sitting in the stands during the match. She wasn’t on the team this year – not necessarily by choice, but she wasn’t much bothered by it. She finally got her reason to quit the team without garnering even more disdain from her housemates and, more importantly, disappointing Hadrian. She really had _much_ more important things on her plate. Between her regular schoolwork, personal research and correspondence with Gringotts, Quidditch wasn’t really a priority.

It was a funny story, really.

When Heather had heard rumours of Lucius Malfoy ordering new brooms – Nimbus 2001s! – for the Slytherin Quidditch team, she knew that it wasn’t for altruistic purposes. It came as no surprise when Draco Malfoy declared himself the new seeker. His resentment for her brother was no secret. To her knowledge, Hadrian hadn’t done anything to propagate such negativity. Other than being a Gryff.

So Heather had heeded Professor Snape’s veiled prompting to forfeit her position. Mr Malfoy was on the Board of Hogwarts Governors and a very well-established politician. The Professor could hardly have spurned his generous donation and _minor_ request. She refused to throw the try-out though – she had more self-respect than that. She simply elected to skip it.

Any lingering reluctance on Heather’s part had been quelled by Professor Snape’s obvious contempt at having to accommodate the spoilt purebloods. It was apparent that he would rather her remain on the team.

Rightly so, of course. Malfoy, while an adequate flier, didn’t hold a candle to her Hadrian. Everyone could see it. Rian was flying circles around the frustrated blond. Besides matches against Heather herself, Rian caught the snitch every time.

His unique flying style allowed him to dodge bludgers easily. He weaved around players and projectiles alike, easily evading any collisions. Even if there was a wild bludger that seemed to be attracted to him like thestrals to raw meat. Wait a minute…

What was it about the first match that compelled everyone to make attempts at her brother’s life?

They had to call off the match! The bludger was clearly tampered with. Heather found herself being _thankful_ for the haphazard way Hadrian flew.

She got out of her seat. She had to get onto that pitch. The Professors could give her all the detentions they wanted. Squeezing out of the crowded stands, she rushed as quickly as she could to the field. Summoning a school broom, she kept her gaze locked on Rian.

Too late! The bludger glanced by him, for the _second_ time. Thankfully, the ruby amulet was working to repel it. Hadrian made a grasping motion. _Unbelievable_. He was still aiming for the snitch. He would drive her crazy one day! He was gripping – just barely – his broom between his thighs. Jerkily, he descended to the ground as Heather rode across the field. He fell off his broom a few yards off the ground, faster than she could catch him.

Heather reached her barely-conscious brother just as _Gilderoy Lockhart_ brandished his wand and took aim. She didn’t hesitate to disarm the inept wizard. It would be just Hadrian’s luck to have their DADA Professor banish all the bones in his arm or some such rot. She overcharged her spell and the man was propelled some 20 feet backwards. What could she say; she was anxious. _Everyone_ made mistakes…even for spells they had mastered long ago.

“Back away! Give Hadrian space to breathe!” she ordered loudly. The whole Gryffindor team had gathered around him, as if _that_ was helping matters. Well aware of her protectiveness, they all stepped back hastily.

She cast a thorough diagnostic spell as she spoke soothingly to her brother. “Hadrian, can you hear me? You’re alright, relax. Don’t fall asleep, okay?” Several broken bones in his right arm from when he tried to break his fall. A couple of abrasions where the crazy bludger had brushed by him. No concussion, thank Merlin.

“’Eather?” her brother slurred confusedly, “Hurts.”

“Hush, I know. I’ll heal you now; it’s nothing serious. Or would you like Madam Pomfrey?” she asked needlessly. He usually came to her for any injuries he couldn’t heal himself.

Instead of answering the redundant question, Hadrian closed his eyes and succumbed to unconsciousness. Heather let him, now that she was sure that he hadn’t sustained a concussion. The spell to mend broken bones took a matter of seconds, to heal the other scrapes, even less.

When all of Hadrian’s injuries were taken care of, George offered to carry him to the infirmary. The situation was so similar to the one last year that, for a wild moment, she contemplated the possibility that Voldemort had attached himself to _Gilderoy freaking Lockhart_.

Surely even Dark lords had higher standards than that?

~~~

Heather woke instantly when her ward spell was triggered, not sure when she had even fallen asleep. Someone had approached Hadrian. She peered into the magic net that had formed at the foot of the hospital bed. She hadn’t actually expected the culprit, whoever it was, to make their move right under her nose.

Stopping short, she stared at the intruder in confusion. It was a house elf. Not a Hogwarts one, it looked too bedraggled. Hogwarts elves were treated much better than this one was. It was just clad in a tattered pillowcase and looked much too thin, even for a house elf.

“Dobby is sorry! Dobby meant no harm to the Great Hadrian Potter, Ma’am!” the elf, Dobby, squeaked miserably.

She looked dubiously at the elf. Perhaps he was here on his master’s orders to hurt Hadrian. “Why _are_ you here, then?”

“Dobby is protecting the Wonderful and Brave Hadrian Potter. Dobby thought Mr Potter would go back home after missing the train, but Mr Potter finds another way here!” Dobby groaned piteously.

_Dobby_ was responsible for that? Mr and Mrs Weasley had had to obtain special permission from the Ministry of Magic to apparate them to Hogsmeade! In the end, they had missed the Welcome Feast and Ginny’s Sorting into Gryffindor because of the messy bureaucracy. (She had also learnt that apparition was as unfriendly to her as flooing was.)

“Dobby! Why did you try to prevent Hadrian from coming to Hogwarts?” The elf seemed sincere enough, but house elves were known for their loyalty to the family they served, often going to drastic measures to fulfil orders.

To her horror, Dobby started banging his head on the nearby bedframe. “Dobby is sorry, but Hogwarts not be safe for Mr Hadrian Potter! Dobby thought his bludger would send Mr Potter home, but Mr Potter was well-shielded!” The mad elf had the gall to look accusingly at her.

She glared furiously. “That bracelet saved my brother’s _life_! You could have _killed_ him with that bludger!”

“Heather?” Hadrian sat up gingerly on the bed. “Wha’s goin’ on?” Her exclamation must have woken him.

Dobby’s eyes bulged out adoringly. “Oh Master Hadrian Potter sir! It is Dobby’s honour!”

Staring flatly at the elf, Heather said icily, “Dobby is the one who spelled the portal at the train platform and the bludger.”

“Only for Mr Potter’s safety! Dobby burnt all his fingers and ironed his feet for his actions! Hogwarts is not safe! Great danger awaits Mr Potter! Mr Potter needs to go home!” the hysterical elf screeched. “Terrible things will happen now that the Chamber of Secrets is open once again!” The elf gasped at his unintentional admission and moaned painfully.

Picking up a bedpan, Dobby slammed it against his head, muttering, “Bad Dobby! Disobedient, useless Dobby!”

“Stop it, Dobby!” Hadrian exclaimed as Heather tightened the magical bindings. If that was what stopped the elf from punishing himself, she had no qualms about restraining him.

“So this danger is related to the Chamber of Secrets? Is it Malfoy? Is _he_ the Heir of Slytherin?” Hadrian questioned. Dobby, however, gave a shrill cry at the mention of Malfoy and disappeared.

Heather started at the elf’s sudden departure. If Dobby had been able to do that, why had he stayed trapped for the whole conversation? The whole thing was suspicious. It was unlikely that Dobby would go against his bonded family to help Hadrian, even if he was the Boy-Who-Lived. Still, the whole business with the Chamber of Secrets…

“Did you see how he reacted at the mention of Malfoy? He _must_ be the Heir of Slytherin!” Hadrian concluded decisively. “Looks like we won’t be needing that Polyjuice after all!”

Giving her brother a dubious look, she said, “ _That’s_ what you needed it for? I can safely say Draco Malfoy is _not_ the Heir. Believe me, he would be bragging about it in the common room if he were.” Plus, Malfoy wasn’t nearly sly enough to have pulled off such a stunt.

“Right,” her brother said, unconvinced. “What’s dangerous about the Chamber of Secrets, though?”

“It’s rumoured to house Slytherin’s Monster. The last time the Chamber was opened, a few muggleborns were petrified and one even died.” Frowning heavily, she continued, “Her name was Myrtle Warren and her ghost haunts the first floor girl’s bathroom.”

Hadrian tensed. “Slytherin’s…Monster?” he said worriedly.

She narrowed her eyes. “What do you know, Rian?”

“I, well, heard. A voice,” he stuttered, “No one else can. Once, after dinner. And again right before we found Mrs Norris. That’s how we found her; I followed the voice.”

“Hadrian,” she said gently, “what did it say?”

She could feel him shudder faintly before he answered. “It sounded murderous. ‘ _Rip…tear…kill…soo hungry_ ’.” Her arms encircled him as her mind raced with possibilities.

Just then, Professor Dumbledore rushed into the infirmary, carrying a statue-like object with Professor McGonagall’s assistance.

Colin Creevey had just been petrified.


	33. Fantastic Feats

Now that Hadrian had no use for the Polyjuice, Heather decided to experiment with the half-finished potion. For a while now, she had toyed with the idea of incorporating runes into potions, integrating her two favourite branches of magic.

To her half-complete Polyjuice, Heather used her crystal rod to stir in the shape of the rune for persistence instead of the requisite anticlockwise stirs. She was careful to channel a steady amount of power, as if to write the rune into the potion using magic.

The problem was that it was difficult to inscribe the symbols, since they couldn’t be written or carved in. She had toyed with several possible methods to do so, but this method of using pure magic to ‘write’ the runes out seemed the most practical. No physical substances were introduced into the delicate brew, so there wasn’t the problem of ingredients reacting negatively.

Other than the potion almost overheating due to the influx of energy, it showed no signs of instability. In fact, the finished product looked _exactly_ like the unmodified version.

Heather hadn’t actually believed that it would turn out so well, but now faced another problem. How was she supposed to test it out?

She contemplated just taking a Hogsmeade weekend to ingest it herself, but decided that she liked being alive and unharmed. Thus, armed with a strand of Fred’s hair that had been enthusiastically supplied, Heather sought out the resident Potions Master.

~~~

The girl, Heather Lyra, was looking expectantly at him. Severus glanced suspiciously at the phial on his desk, then looked back at her.

“Well, what do you think, Professor?” she asked eagerly.

Truly? Severus thought the girl had finally gone mad after the latest stunt her foolhardy brother pulled at the Quidditch match. Runes and Potions? No one had ever tried to marry the two before. For good reason; one could not write on liquid. Yet…if the girl had managed to accomplish this, it may not be an entirely fruitless endeavour.

“How did you etch the runes?” The Polyjuice did not look changed at all. Why had she utilised such a complex potion to pilot her radical idea? A Boil Cure or Bruise Paste would have done just as well.

Heather Lyra’s countenance brightened, acting like he had already given his approval. Granted, not banishing the potion straight away had indicated, at the very least, his attention. “I used magic and a crystal stirring rod.”

“Pardon – magic? _Raw_ magic?” he asked incredulously.

“Yes, I suppose?” she answered, nonplussed. As if she manipulated her magic in its wild state every day. The girl did not even realise the magnitude of such a feat, did she? It was the entire basis of wandless magic!

“And that is how you formed the runes in the potion. By writing them with magic using the rod as a quill of sorts,” he stated more than questioned. The girl nodded.

Severus leaned back in his chair, staring intently at the seemingly innocuous phial. It sounded like the perfect solution to the problem. Unfortunately, this meant that only a scant few could successfully brew these Rune-Potion combinations due to the inherent difficulty of the near-wandless magic.

He cast his thoughts back to last November, during another of these sessions. Heather Lyra had non-verbally healed herself. Her wand had not been visible and he had simply assumed that it was hidden in her sleeves. In reality, she had likely _not_ required her wand. Wandless magic, even then? This casual display of control was not indicative of a recent development.

“Your attempt seems viable,” he finally said. Much as he would like to pry the truth out of her, now was not the time. He would continue his observations.

“So I may test it out? You agree to supervise, sir?” the girl asked excitedly. Her expression, which had gradually become more and more discouraged during his extended silence, lit up considerably. If only all the other dunderheads had even a fraction of her enthusiasm for his subject, his tolerance for teaching would be much improved.

Ignoring her inane questions, he proceeded to hash out the details. Since well-brewed regular Polyjuice lasted for 12 hours – and Heather Lyra’s potion was flawless as usual – anything beyond the period was the effect of the rune. By Guild standards, only if the potion lasted an additional two hours was the improvement considered valid.

“As such,” he added with an imperious stare, “you will not be gadding away with the Messrs Weasley in Hogsmeade tomorrow.”

“No, I’ll be gadding away _as_ one of the Messrs Weasley tomorrow. Fred, to be exact,” she retorted cheekily, holding up a strand of red hair.

He knew Heather Lyra’s eyes were laughing at his irked expression, even if she maintained her wretchedly polite smile.

~~~

It worked! Her Runic Potion worked! Heather had stayed in Fred’s form for a whole _16_ hours! It had lasted so long that the Professor had ordered her away for a few hours. _“I am hardly paid enough to have to endure that Weasley’s face on a weekend,”_ he had said.

Heather had taken that time to visit the twins. _That_ had been hilarious. The Gryffs had freaked out over the Weasley _triplet_ that appeared.

“You mean there are _three_ of you?!” a particularly ridiculous sixth year had shouted before fainting in shock.

Fred and George had been extremely entertained by that episode. They had even wrung out a promise from Heather to do that again.

When the Polyjuice had finally worn off, Professor Snape declared the experiment ‘marginally promising’. She was ordered to demonstrate the brewing for him in the next session.

Perhaps she would try using a simpler potion in her ensuing attempts.

~~~

Pouting defiantly, Heather complained for the fifth time, “Why did you two have to drag me here?” She had been brewing when FredGeorge dragged her out of the Den to attend some Duelling Club meeting. She wanted to know how _uruz_ , the rune of healing, would affect Essence of Dittany, damnit!

“You’ve been spending all your free time messing around with those potions of yours! Tell, her, Forge.”

“Uh huh. Gred is right. You need to take a break. Have some fun!”

“Hey,” she exclaimed, affronted, “I _was_ having fun!”

She might as well not have spoken.

“Aren’t you interested in the club?”

“You’re pretty good at duelling – disarmed Lockhart easily in class, didn’t you?”

“ _And_ after that Quidditch match.”

Snorting derisively, she said, “It’s not exactly the penultimate challenge for Master Duellers everywhere to defeat _Gilderoy Lockhart_.” She sneered at the thought of the buffoon. Fine, she had been a _tad_ uncharitable since he’d accosted her. Watching the man fly backwards – twice! – had been immensely gratifying though.

“Anyway,” she continued, “DADA is more of Rian’s interest than mine.” He had taken strongly to Transfiguration and DADA, despite the latter being taught by utterly useless Professors.

“Stop being a Heather-harpy about it!” they chorused.

She sighed and resigned herself to losing this argument. Perhaps she would learn something from the demonstration.

When _Lockhart_ strutted onto the platform, she turned to glare ferociously at the twins, readying a blistering rant.

Then Professor Snape stepped up after him, in all his glowering glory.

“Thank you!” Heather said fervently in a rapid about-face. She blew them kisses then turned her attention back to the front.

She ignored when they started waxing poetic. She didn’t want to miss a second of this. Professor Snape _detested_ Lockhart. In fact, he was glaring daggers at the pompous wizard right this moment. No one insinuated that the Slytherin Head’s skills were anything less than exceptional. No one who wanted to walk away intact, that was.

_“Expelliarmus!”_ Professor Snape shouted with no small amount of relish.

Heather burst into unfettered laughter as Lockhart flew across the Great Hall and smashed loudly into the wall, slumping bonelessly to the ground. Oh, this would _definitely_ be a Patronus moment. Watching from the side view was no less entertaining than from the front. She even caught a fleeting conspiring look from the Potions Professor. So he had heard about the times she herself had disarmed Lockhart. Really, did the vapid man never learn?

“Didn’t know that you-” Fred said between chuckles.

“-hated Lockhart so much,” George finished after his twin descended into manic guffaws.

“He thought I had a _crush_ on him,” Heather explained scornfully, “Cornered me alone one evening. Thank Merlin Professor Snape was nearby.”

Her friends sobered at her words and looked calculatingly at the vain wizard. Heather got the feeling that Lockhart would soon be bombarded with not-so-friendly pranks. Maybe she would even help.

“Least the git’s good for _something_ ,” George muttered. At her quelling look, he held his hands up in surrender. “No offense intended?” Heather shook her head and let it go; she had caught sight of her brother.

Oh, Rian was being called up for a demonstration with…Draco Malfoy. Oh dear. Her brother could handle Malfoy any day, but their enmity was legendary. The malicious light in her fellow Slyth’s eyes didn’t soothe her concerns either. Dobby had had that strange reaction to the name ‘Malfoy’ too.

As expected, Hadrian easily disarmed Malfoy, even though the blond had cheated and acted before the countdown had finished. When Rian turned to get off the platform, though, Malfoy aimed his retrieved wand at her brother’s back.

The spineless coward! Heather leapt to her feet, shooting her own disarming charm at the wretch. She was too far way, though, and her spell reached him only after he had cast whatever nasty, dangerous…

_“Serpensortia!”_ Malfoy crowed victoriously.

She snorted. Right. That was possibly the _worst_ spell anyone could throw at her brother. Twirling her wand casually, she made her way to the front, watching the proceedings.

The snake was a black mamba – highly venomous. It could really have caused someone severe harm. It was also headed directly for a Puff in Rian’s year, Finch-something. Draco Malfoy had a lot to account for.

Fortunately, Hadrian got to the snake in time. From the side of the platform, she could hear the sibilant sounds of the serpent language. If he hadn’t been a Parselmouth, that Puff would be on his way to Madam Pomfrey right now. He quickly banished the snake after presumedly explaining the situation to it. Pity Anguis wasn’t around; she would have quite enjoyed the show.

That was when Heather realised how silent the room was. Peculiar. She looked around. Every student was looking in terror at her brother, even that student he had saved. Then, the Hufflepuff backed away quickly, face paled dramatically. Even _Professor Snape_ was staring intensely at Rian. She knew that Parselmouths were rare, but did they have to stare at him with so much shock…and _fear_?

Heather nudged him off the stage and led him to where she had left the twins. The students parted like the Red Sea, skittering out of the way like they were diseased. Fred and George, unusually serious, dragged them both out of the hall and all the way to the Den, Ron and Hermione trailing behind.

“You didn’t tell us-” Fred began.

“-that Hadrian was a Parselmouth!” George said, saying ‘Parselmouth’ in a low tone, like it was taboo.

“What is this place?” Ronald asked, amazed.

“Is that a Sopophorous Plant? They’re really rare and difficult to grow!” Hermione enthused.

Everyone turned to stare at the brunette witch, who blushed, embarrassed. “Sorry, off topic.”

Heather waved her hands in frustration. “One person at a time! Hadrian?”

He shrugged and said, “I _did_ tell you guys. I’ve said that I talk to Anguis all the time!”

Ronald groaned. “I thought you meant talk _at_ , mate, not talk _with.”_

“Yeah, Hadrian,” Hermione added, nodding, “Ron natters on and on to Scabbers, but he certainly can’t speak rat.”

“Funny you should mention that. Anguis absolutely _abhors_ Scabbers. Says he’s not normal,” Hadrian said in a perturbed tone.

Seeing the younger Weasley puff up in indignation, Heather intervened before he could launch into a passionate defence of his rat. “Not now. What happened back there? All Rian did was tell the snake to back off. The Hufflepuff narrowly avoided being poisoned!”

“Wait, you’re one too?” FredGeorge chimed.

“No, but it was obvious what he was doing.”

Frowning, Hermione said, “Not to the bystanders.”

“Yeah, mate,” Ronald said, “Looked like you were egging it on, actually.”

Hadrian’s brows shot to his hairline. “Was _that_ why everyone was staring at me like I was the second coming of Voldemort?” He ignored the flinches.

“N-no mate,” Ronald stuttered slightly, “It’s also ‘cos Parseltongue is a Dark trait.”

“What our eloquent brother is trying to say is-”

“-that Salazar Slytherin, the Slyth head honcho-”

“-was famous for Parseltongue.”

“Which is why Slytherin’s mascot is a snake.”

“Hence it is a trait associated with Dark wizards, as Slytherin has a less than stellar reputation,” Heather concluded.

“Exactamente!” “Righto!”

“But Salazar Slytherin has been dead a long time,” Heather reasoned, “Parseltongue’s just another magical language like Mermish or Gobbledygook. The only difference is that the skill is passed down through the bloodlin… Oh.” Hadrian moaned miserably.

“Yeah, they think Hadrian’s Slytherin’s Heir.”


	34. Slithering Serpents

Heather had had to reassure a distraught Hadrian after _that_ revelation. They were all idiots, the lot of them. Her Rian was the kindest and gentlest boy she knew. Why anyone suspected that he was behind the petrifications, she couldn’t fathom. One of his best friends was a muggleborn, not to mention their own _mother_.

Hadrian would only be satisfied if he cleared the air, however, so he insisted on explaining matters to that Puff. Apparently, they were friends, or they had been. Not wanting to risk him being ganged up on by irrational Hufflepuffs, Heather insisted on accompanying him.

Due to the heavy blizzard, Hadrian’s Herbology class was cancelled. As it was her free period as well, it was the perfect time to look for Finch-Fletchley. She and her brother found a gaggle of badgers in avid discussion in the library.

“…Potter was _clearly_ out to get Justin, he’s made it no secret that he’s muggleborn, after all,” a gangly boy muttered. Heather bristled at the accusation. Hadrian was doing nothing of the sort! No promises for _another_ Potter gunning for this Puff though. Her brother shook his head at her.

Clearing his throat, Rian asked, “Do you know where we might find Justin?” The group looked horror-struck. Probably thought they were here to off the boy, the imbeciles.

“W-why? Here to finish what you started?” a timid voice stuttered out. She knew it – predictable.

Her brother frowned, which made the ninnies recoil. “No, just wanted to explain what happened is all. I meant no harm.”

“Right, no harm. Telling that snake to bite Justin wouldn’t have harmed him at all,” that first boy retorted. Then he paled dramatically, remembering who he was speaking to. “Just so you know, the Macmillan family comes from a long line of wizards,” he said hastily.

“I’ve got _nothing_ against muggleborns!” Rian exclaimed in annoyance. Heather could have told him to save his breath. It was useless to argue when they _wanted_ to find a scapegoat for the world’s problems.

The Macmillan boy then said disbelievingly, “Rumour has it that you _hate_ your muggle relatives.”

At this, Heather couldn’t hide her fury anymore. They didn’t have the right to talk about the Dursleys! “You shouldn’t talk about matters in which you are uninformed, Macmillan. Your ignorance shows,” she snapped condescendingly. The boy turned crimson in anger as she smirked.

Turning on her heel, she said to Hadrian, “Come on. It’s clear these _people_ ,” she sneered, making it clear she meant ‘idiots’, “are stuck in their pig-headedness.” Then she strode off with her brother in tow. She didn’t know where she was going, but _away_ sounded fantastic right now.

Heather walked around a corner only to narrowly avoid a collision with the hulking groundskeeper.

“Oh, sorry Hagrid! Wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings,” Heather apologised politely. Her brother was friends with the man, thus she was amiable terms with him, despite his bias against Slyths.

“No problem! I shoulda been lookin’ where I was goin’,” the half-giant said.

That was when Heather noticed that he was carrying some sort of bird. Her brother beat her to the punch. “What do you have there? Is that a dead bird?”

The large man nodded, holding the carcass out. “Yea’, second one killed ‘ready. Someone’s been messin’ ‘round wit’ the roosters.” He frowned heavily. “Gon’ ask Perfessor Flitwick to put up some Shield Charms ‘round the pens.”

“Oh, well we shouldn’t keep you from your work then, Hagrid,” Heather said shortly, still miffed from the conversations with the badgers.

After her brother made arrangements for tea, they walked off. She started towards Gryffindor Tower, intending to walk Hadrian back in case anyone got any _ideas._ She turned into a dark corridor, a shortcut to the tower, and stumbled over something on the floor. Only Rian’s firm hold kept her upright. Quickly, she cast a _Lumos_ to see better – then wished she hadn’t.

Lying on the floor was a deathly still Justin Finch-Fletchley, staring vacantly. Floating next to him was an abnormally shadowy Nearly-Headless Nick.

Heather grasped her brother’s hand tightly and looked away from the ghastly sight. Her gaze happened to land on a trail of spiders scuttling away. Too shocked to ponder the oddity, she made an aborted attempt to step away.

But they couldn’t just leave them like this. Her brother was of the same mind and he cast a _Mobilicorpus_ on the stiff Puff. Heather didn’t know what to do with the ghost. He couldn’t be moved with spells and she didn’t want to risk touching him.

In the end, they decided to focus on the still-living student and sprinted towards the infirmary with him hovering behind. They could afford to leave the ghost for later.

~~~

They were brought into the Headmaster’s office. Whether as key witnesses or prime suspects, Heather didn’t know.

The office was, as yet, empty of all but Fawkes. She had met the phoenix familiar the last time she’d been called to this office – to explain the whole Quirrell debacle. The bird had been in his full glory then. Now, he looked like a decrepit mass of fluff. Burning Day was soon upon him; perhaps it would even be today. Maybe they would be able to witness it?

Heather hummed soothingly at the fidgety old bird. The phoenix settled down into his nest of shed plumage and tried to warble in tune with her. Even wobbly and breathless, the phoenix song brought forth feelings of joy and serenity.

Hadrian gasped in awe. Fawkes had erupted into brilliant golden flames during his song, as if giving a farewell performance. The melody somehow still carried on until all that was left was a mound of ashes.

Hadrian’s eyes shone excitedly as he watched the phoenix die in preparation for his rebirth. “Wow, that was _amazing._ ”

“Indeed, it always is.”

Heather and her brother turned around to see the Headmaster sitting at his desk as if he had been there all along.

“Wondrous, isn’t it? Burning only to rise from their ashes,” the aged wizard said, eyeing the tiny chick Fawkes shaking soot from his body.

At their murmurs of agreement, the Headmaster beamed kindly, blue eyes twinkling. “Now, on to business, shall we? Truly unfortunate, what happened to Mr Finch-Fletchley. Could you tell me what happened?”

Heather let her brother explain, from the chat with the badgers to encountering the petrified boy and ghost. She was content to observe the Headmaster. As expected, his face gave nothing away, placidly curious.

“That is…most worrying,” Professor Dumbledore said after Rian was done. “Thank you for your discretion. It was most helpful in preventing panic among the students.”

It also had the distinct advantage of preventing others from accusing her brother of wrongdoing. At least the Headmaster wasn’t as foolish as that.

Staring solemnly at Hadrian, the other wizard asked, “Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary lately? Anything at all?”

Heather turned her head slowly to the right, appearing to observe Fawkes. Her brother took it as the refusal it was and conveyed his absolute cluelessness.

~~~

Oh, Heather didn’t doubt that Albus Dumbledore was a good man – his phoenix was living (and dying and living…) proof of that. But good didn’t equate saintly or pure. What was good on the whole wasn’t necessarily good for her Hadrian. She didn’t trust the old wizard not to use her brother as some sort of tracker for the serpent if he found out about the voice only Rian could hear.

For Slytherin’s Monster was definitely a serpent of sorts. It was only logical for Slytherin to have a familiar he could communicate with. What had really confirmed her suspicions, though, was what Hadrian had said to her the other day.

_{Rip…tear…kill…sssoo hungry…}_

He had unknowingly spoken Parseltongue, repeating the words as he’d heard them.

What _kind_ of serpent was the crux now. There were several snakelike creatures known to wizardkind.

Naga was the first that came to mind. Half-human, half-snake. Highly poisonous and very long-lived. But they could not petrify.

Then there were gorgons. Monstrous females with snakes for hair. A single gaze upon one would turn the victim to stone. Closer, but in this case the petrified were all still flesh and blood, not granite.

Next, of course, was the basilisk. Widely considered the king of serpents, it was a humongous snake hatched from a chicken egg that was incubated by a toad. Aside from its extremely potent venom, it had a literally deadly gaze. Yet, no one had been killed.

If it weren’t for a few key considerations, Heather would have dismissed the idea out of hand. The fleeing spiders, the killed roosters. Those couldn’t be mere coincidences.

Heather wouldn’t let Headmaster Dumbledore shepherd Hadrian into hunting a Merlin-be-damned _basilisk_.

Somehow, all the victims had escaped with their lives (or afterlife) intact. All they needed was a Mandrake Restorative Draught. Perhaps the basilisk was weakened, trapped for centuries as it had been. Perhaps it was old age, it was probably well beyond its life expectancy by now. Whatever the cause, Heather would take no chances. The basilisk was growing in strength.

It was time to ensure Hadrian knew certain spells. She would make sure he could do them wandless – and _bound_ – if necessary.


	35. Teenage Woes

Hadrian sagged in relief when the _Incarcerous_ was lifted. Groaning, he stretched his stiff limbs and then sprawled bonelessly across the floor. Anguis slithered up to him from where she had been sunning herself.

_{Are you finissshed with your odd two-legged gamesss yet?}_ the taipan hissed in question.

He sighed. _{We’re not playing gamesss, Anguisss. Heather hasss gone mad sssince ssshe found out Ssslytherin’sss Monssster isss a basssilisssk.}_

The snake coiled her body and tilted her head in confusion. _{That isss why_ _your nessst mate isss torturing you? Ssshe hasss lossst her sssanity?}_

_{Ssshe might asss well be,}_ Hadrian whined, _{Ssshe isss training me to defend myssself. Tied up and wandlesss.}_

Relaxing now that that her master was not in danger from insane nest mates, Anguis curled up on her warm rock again. _{That isss very wissse of the Sssly One, not crazy at all,}_ she commented, _{I do not underssstand your frussstration.}_

“Rian! Stop complaining to Anguis; I can hear you perfectly. You only have three more minutes of rest,” his sister reminded.

He sighed once more in exasperation. Really, he _was_ grateful that Heather put in all this effort, but she could be rather over-the-top sometimes. He had already learnt all these spells days ago – now she just wanted to drill him. Again and again.

~~~

Staring at the strange offerings, Heather gave a tentative smile. They weren’t any variety of flower she knew, with their oddly human faces where their centres should have been. Fred’s was a white daisy-like flower while George’s reminded her of a red rose.

“That’s not all!” Fred said proudly.

“Watch this!” George declared, stroking his flower gently.

To her perturbed amazement, the plant began to _sing._

_~You charmed the heart right out of me_

_Don’t need no broom, I’m flying free_

_I think by now it’s plain to see_

_I’m nothing without you~_

It was really bizarre to hear the strains of Celestina Warbeck’s song coming from the tiny flower. In George’s tenor.

“I didn’t know you could sing so well,” was all Heather could say.

Fred scoffed and pushed his pot forward. “That’s nothing. Watch this!” Then Fred’s flower opened its mouth (?) and recited passionately:

_She walks in beauty, like the night_

_Of cloudless climes and starry skies;_

_And all that’s best of dark and bright_

_Meet in her aspect and her eyes;_

_Thus mellow’d to that tender light_

_Which heaven to gaudy day denies_

“That’s Byron, isn’t it? You know muggle poetry?” Heather asked, putting aside the sudden romantic gestures for now. They would explain themselves eventually.

Fred shrugged. “Found it in one of Dad’s books.” Arthur Weasley was inordinately curious about all things muggle.

“So…” Heather trailed off leadingly, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, right!”

“Forgot the most important part!”

They bowed gallantly and tipped their imaginary top hats. “Happy Valentines’ Day, m’lady!” they exclaimed loudly, catching the attention of the nearby breakfasters.

Heather blushed in embarrassment as several students turned to gawk at them. She had forgotten about Valentines’ Day. But then, she had no reason to celebrate it.

“Thanks? But why the sudden gifts?” They had never done anything of the sort before.

“We were thinking of marketing these.”

“Call them ‘Lilting Lilacs’.”

Oh, for their joke shop in-the-making. They had discovered their calling years ago, but only last year had they concretised their dream into a practical plan. What better way to incite laughter than selling their pranks and gags? Heather thought it was amazing what these two could do when motivated. So _this_ was presumedly what they had nicked those mandragora leaves for in Herbology. It was probably a potion.  And they had only done that a little over three weeks ago! If only Professor Snape knew…

Inspecting the flora critically, she said in a dubious tone, “These are certainly _not_ lilacs. But lilting, I’ll give.”

“Who cares?” George commented indifferently, “The name’s catchy.”

“Great for attracting attention,” Fred said, waggling his brows.

A hilarious idea popped into her mind and she smiled wickedly. “Well then, let’s _really_ give everyone something to talk about.”

Leaning in, she gave each of them a lingering kiss at the corners of their mouths.

“Thank you again for your _wonderful_ Valentines, boys,” she said coyly, fluttering her lashes.

The shameless redheads grinned devilishly as frenzied muttering stole across all four house tables. Students gaped rudely at them, but they were also staring at the still-vocal Lilting Lilacs in interest. Mission accomplished.

A large shadow suddenly fell over her and the twins froze in terror, staring somewhere behind her.

“Messrs Weasley,” a low voice rumbled threateningly, “you will refrain from attempting amorous advances on my snakes. The breakfast table is hardly the place for whatever lurid acts you two are no doubt contriving in your lecherous minds.”

Heather pinched her lips to prevent the laughter that was close to bubbling out. Only one person in the school spoke in that tone of pure scorn.

“20 points from Gryffindor for that indecent display of Weasley mating habits,” Professor Snape barked. “Now get back to your places!”

ForgeGred did what any valiant Gryffindor would have done; they hightailed out of there.

“What a _beautiful_ display of romance!” an unwelcome voice pronounced. Heather grimaced at the comment. “Snape, you didn’t have to interrupt. It’s the day of Love!” Lockhart, decked in garish robes of magenta and fuchsia pranced over.

Professor Snape didn’t even bother to answer, simply opting to return to his seat.  The snubbed DADA Professor then cleared his throat and began to speak of the passion of youth and whatnot. Heather tuned him out and read her latest missive from Griphook. She smiled in satisfaction at the thick stack of folders. There were a few questions she had to ask her brother.

Suddenly, tiny creatures dressed as cupids swooped into the hall and began handing out letters. A love letter courier. How… _lovely._

Surprisingly, even she had received a few. They were mostly from lower years whom she had helped with schoolwork while browsing the library. Simply letters of appreciation, she was relieved to note. She would thank them later. She had also gotten an opulent embroidered handkerchief from an anonymous sender. She had no idea what she’d do with it, seeing as she was not in the habit of using one.

To her great amusement, her brother had received a poem. Which was being read out by one of the pseudo-cherubs. Right now. It wasn’t very good, but she found it adorable nonetheless.

She knew who the sender was. Ginny was shooting furtive glances at Hadrian. Children were cruel, however, and all it took was one snicker to set everyone off. Poor Ginny looked near tears as she ran out of the Great Hall.

Heather caught the looks the twins sent her and sped off after the distressed girl. She had been almost depressed since coming to Hogwarts. The petrifications hadn’t helped much, either. Hermione told Heather that the girl had been having nightmares since Mrs Norris. She hoped this incident wouldn’t be the straw that broke the hippogriff’s back.

Heather caught up with the sobbing girl and herded her into an empty classroom. This wasn’t a talk to be had in public.

“Ginny, are you alright?” A useless question; the girl just moaned miserably. Sighing, Heather decided to let the tears run their course. It would be cathartic, at least. She pulled the younger witch into her arms and hummed soothingly into her hair.

Eventually, the crying subsided, though Ginny still looked wrecked. “Ginny, I’m sure Hadrian loved your poem.” At the girl’s accusing look, she said, “I’m not mocking you. He’s definitely touched that you put in the effort. Even if it was, admittedly, not the best literary work I’ve heard.”

“It was horrible! Everyone was laughing!”

“Not Rian. He even looked a bit pleased. It’s the first love letter he’s gotten you know.”

“Really?” Ginny asked, hope shining in her eyes. Heather gazed into her innocent face and smiled reassuringly. Had she ever been so young?

“Really,” Heather said. “I must mention though, that it may be a long time before Hadrian even starts thinking about stuff like love and romance. You know how _boys_ are,” she said, winking.

The Gryffindor jutted her chin stubbornly. “I can wait for him.”

Heather smiled gently and tried to be as diplomatic as possible. “That’s fine and good, but you also need to carefully examine your own feelings. You’re still young. Right now, you might not fully understand what that kind of love is yet – I know I don’t. I’m not saying this is necessarily true, but is it possible that you’re infatuated with Hadrian as the Boy-Who-Lived?” The other girl wanted to protest, but Heather shook her head.

“You’ve grown up hearing all sorts of stories about the brave and heroic Hadrian Potter. That must create a wonderful image. But Hadrian isn’t like how everyone portrays him as. Brave, yes. Heroic, not exactly. Vanquisher of evildoers everywhere, _definitely_ not. All I’m asking is that you thoroughly consider your current feelings. Let whatever that comes after that come.”

Ginny had a considering look on her face. Good, that meant she was taking Heather’s words seriously. She was glad that her clumsy advice was helpful. She herself hadn’t had any experience in this area, so she had been fumbling with the words to say. But Ginny was still very naïve in ways that Heather had never been allowed. She found herself wanting to help the girl.

“You can take your time to think things through. You don’t have to, but you can talk to me anytime. Sometimes boys can just be hopeless – especially your brothers.” Ginny chuckled and agreed, vehemently.

“Don’t keep your feelings bottled up. Even if it’s not me, talk to someone. Perhaps Hermione, or that Ravenclaw friend of yours. What was her name again?”

“Y’mean Luna? Luna Lovegood. She’s quirky, but brilliant.”

“Most Claws are,” Heather said, nodding sagely, “Quirky, I mean.”

Giggling, Ginny whispered, “That they are.”

“But we love quirky, don’t we? _‘Green as fresh pickled toad’_?” Heather said teasingly.

The youngest Weasley blushed bright red, but she was laughing the hardest she’d had in months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own the song and poem. The song is called 'You Charmed the Heart RightOut of Me' by Celestina Warbeck, sourced from HP Wiki. The poem is by Lord Byron, 'She Walks in Beauty'.


	36. Interlude: Third One's the Charm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short little extra I thought of. Heather has to fulfill her promises, doesn't she?

The gift was a phial of murky liquid. One boy groaned in exasperation while the other sighed, disappointed. A raised brow, then they looked more carefully at the offering. After a thoughtful pause, their eyes lit up with unholy glee. Evil laughter filled the air.

~~~

Fred and George Weasley got their brooms out of the shed for their early morning Quidditch practice. Their captain, Oliver Wood, was fanatic about the game. He was also a slave-driver when it came to training his team. Hence their 5am Quidditch practice.

Normally, they would have complained noisily about waking so early, but today was a special day. You see, it was their birthday. More significantly, it was April Fools’ Day. A day for practical jokes and pranks. It might as well have been made for them!

“Hey Fred – or George! You’re off your game! My grandmum could have caught that throw!” Oliver shouted at his beater. George – or Fred – was seriously out of it.

“Sorry Cap! Might be coming down with something too!” the redhead shouted from across the pitch. Oliver glared viciously at the other. They had a match in a few days! Damn Potter and her cold. She had fallen ill yesterday at dinner. She’d probably be missing classes today, so he couldn’t go yell at her too.

Oliver growled and ordered the twin – whoever he was – to go lift weights instead. If he fell off his broom and broke something, they’d have to use the reserve beater, who was useless.

Practice lasted right until breakfast, and even _then_ Oliver had been reluctant to release them. Fred and George ambled leisurely to the Great Hall with the rest of the team, acting as per normal.

When they arrived, it was to a scene of absolute catastrophe. Instead of the usual feast laid out on the tables, all the platters of food were darting madly around the room. Placidly sitting on the tables when undisturbed, they only came to life when anyone tried to take food from them.

Strangely enough, nothing was ever spilled, even when the plates flew sideways to avoid a ravenous student. None of them collided with anything either – be they people, walls or their brethren.

Some tenacious students were still fruitlessly trying to catch the flying saucers while the Professors scrambled madly to maintain order. Even Headmaster Dumbledore seemed at his wits’ end.

Then, as the clock struck eight, all the dishes settled calmly on the tables, giving no sign of the previous chaos they had created.

Fred and George were still laughing uproariously when their fuming Head of House strode over to them.

“Messrs Weasley, detention every day for the next three weeks for your nonsense! And 35 points from Gryffindor!” Professor McGonagall exclaimed shrilly.

They donned affronted expressions.

“It wasn’t us, we swear!”

“We were at Quidditch training all morning – ask Oliver!”

The Captain nodded in confirmation. “Yeah, Professor. We started even before breakfast was first served. They were with us the whole time.”

Faced with the hard evidence, the Professor had no choice but to revoke the punishment The mayhem had begun while practice was in session. That didn’t stop her from glaring suspiciously at the twin mischief-makers.

The rest of the day passes in a similar fashion. Outrageous pranks which practically _screamed_ Fred and George occurred while they were otherwise occupied. They _always_ had rock-solid alibis for each incident. Professors had no choice but to let them off scot-free even though they _knew_ the twins were the culprits.

Argus Filch had once caught the perpetrator in the act, but they fled the scene before they could be caught. When asked, the caretaker would say that the student had been covered head-to-toe in black robes, with a hood disguising their face. Because the twins had been brewing a surprisingly flawless Alihotsy Draught in Potions under the careful eye of Professor Snape (who had, oddly, not been a victim of a single prank), they couldn’t be blamed for the foam-filled Trophy Room.

~~~

“So, enjoying yourself, Fred?”

The redhead in question smirked slyly. “Why of course. This has been an epic birthday… _Fred_.”

The doppelganger grinned and tossed out a set of black robes. “Go on then. George is distracting the others. Remember, Professor Snape is off-limits. Of all the Professors, he’s the most likely to catch us in the act. He’s the only one who knows about the potion, after all.”

“Yeah, yeah. We just think you don’t want anything to happen to your precious Professor.”

Pseudo-Fred’s cheeks flushed darkly. “Whatever, bet you can’t top George’s upside-down furniture one.”

“Just watch me!” Fred boasted as the other exited the bathroom.

Polyjuice was _delightful,_ wasn’t it?


	37. Another Interlude: Day of Love. Or Not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know what you're thinking. Another chapter so quickly? Well, the previous one was pretty short, being just an extra and all. Also, Merlenyn gave me the idea to write Sev's POV for the Valentine's Day scene. I thought it over and this is what I came up with. Enjoy!

A nagging sense of unease told Severus that today would be a bad day. He trusted his instincts, honed from all the time spent around bloodthirsty and cruel monsters. The years he’d spent as a Deatheater didn’t hurt either.

His discomfiture dogged his footsteps all the way to the Great Hall. If he snapped at a couple of students he met on the way, then it was just unfortunate for them. They shouldn’t have been laughing and hugging in the halls anyway. He still couldn’t quite put his finger on what was different about this day, but the atmosphere seemed to be saturated with… _something_.

Schooling his features into his typical mask of scorn, he swept into the Great Hall. As expected, at this early hour, few students were in attendance. Several Ravenclaws, heads buried in books filled with useless facts they were trying to memorise. A Hufflepuff or two, scribbling last minute additions to essays due today. No Gryffindors, for heaven forbid they wake earlier than they need to. His eyes trailed to his own house table. A handful of them were already halfway through their meals, eating with restrained etiquette more commonly seen at high society functions. A particular student caught his eye.

Heather Lyra, of course, toed the line of impropriety with her dining habits. While certainly a neat eater, she hardly displayed the stiff control her housemates did. In fact, her movements were smooth, elegant, even, if Severus were a man who was loose with his praise. Also different from her fellow witches was the sheer _amount_ she ate. This was her third serving so far since he’d arrived. And Salazar knew how much she’d already eaten before that. Quite refreshing, if he were to admit, to see a teenaged witch _not_ pecking at her meals like a tiny bird. Where _did_ the girl put that all away? She was not even on the Quidditch team anymore, so it certainly was not exercise that burned away all those calories…

And he was entirely too fixated on the blasted girl. Next he knew he’d be pondering the state of her love life or cosmetics. Not that she needed any, with her fair-

He growled in annoyance, causing a nearby Hufflepuff to jump in his seat.

He pointedly turned away from the distracting little brat and to the breakfast selection. Immediately, his gaze was bombarded with shades of red. Grape juice instead of the typical pumpkin juice. Raspberry jam. Pancakes with chunks of strawberries. That niggling sense was practically banging on his head now. He felt his eye twitch. He would puzzle this out after a much-needed cup of tea. Bringing his cup up for a sip, he very nearly spat it out. His typical Earl Grey had been switched out for this ghastly maroon fruity concoction!

“Ah, good morning Severus! Enjoying the new blend? Berries and apple, I believe.”

Albus, of course! Glaring, he looked up at his recently-arrived employer. Only his inestimable self-control kept him from gaping foolishly.

“Albus. You are looking…bright today.” Indeed, in startling hues of crimson and pink.

The old dodder beamed excitedly. “Oh, you noticed!” Even _Longbottom_ would notice, as incompetent as he was. “All the better to get into the festivities, don’t you agree?” _Festivities_? Severus did not want to know. “Valentines’ Day is such a lovely holiday, isn’t it? Muggles have the most wonderful ideas.”

Damn it all! It was this blasted day again! Now he knew why he’d been on edge since waking. The little monsters would be nigh on uncontrollable today. There went his plan to have the sixth years brew the very difficult, _very_ convoluted Draught of Living Death. He did _not_ need a fatality on his hands – the Board would be insufferable.

Not replying Albus, he summoned the pot of Earl Grey from the other end of the table. None of that fruity nonsense. Herb tisanes, he could tolerate, perhaps even floral brews, but fruit? He withheld a disgusted sneer.

A commotion at the Slytherin table drew his gaze and he looked over reflexively. Of course, who could it be other than Heather Lyra and Tweedles Dee and Dum? He watched, with the same aghast intrigue one might have watching a broom wreck, as they offered her flowers which started singing and spouting poetry. Surely the girl would be irritated by the useless ornaments? What use did she have for such junk?

From somewhere unknown, fury rushed forth at the sight of her unfettered smile. Green eyes sparkled with obvious joy, even from where he was sitting. And then he wasn’t. Sitting, that was. Without quite realising it, he had stood and started striding towards the trio.

As he approached, the girl rose on her tiptoes and pecked each of the idiots on the cheek, scandalously close to their mouths. The simmering anger turned into roaring Fiendfyre.

With restraint that even he did not know he possessed, he refrained from cursing the unworthy little cretins. Looming over them from behind the girl, he hissed, “Messrs Weasley, you will refrain from attempting amorous advances on my snakes. The breakfast table is hardly the place for whatever lurid acts you two are no doubt contriving in your lecherous minds.” With unholy glee, he savoured the pure terror on their ruddy little faces.

“20 points from Gryffindor for that indecent display of Weasley mating habits,” he all but spat out, “Now get back to your places!” The dratted idiots scuttled off like the hounds of Hel were after them. So much for the _vaunted_ Gryffindor bravery.

He stormed away soon after, not even pausing to listen to the utter drivel that was Lockhart speaking. He ate quickly, passing over the garish red foods for a sensible omelette and muffin. Once done, he stood with a terse nod at Albus. His peripheral vision caught sight of the girl, staring wide-eyed at a gremlin passing her a stack of pink letters. He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palm.

He could not leave the hall quickly enough, even with his long rapid strides. He gave a weeks’ detention to a couple lingering in the corridor for pawing at each other and glared daggers at others walking to their classes.

Even now, the memory of that scene had him stewing in rage. Only, some of that was directed towards himself. What business was it of his that the girl was so free with her affections? Certainly, it was just the inappropriate light she was shedding on their house. Maybe even that she could do much better than those blithering buffoons. Had he really been commending her for toeing the line of impropriety only an hour before? He took it back. _Vehemently_.

Needless to say, Gryffindor lost a record number of points that day. For once, however, it was not in Hadrian Potter’s class, but that of a certain pair of redheads.


	38. Down the Rabbit Hole

Realisation clicked as Heather stared at the compact mirror in Professor McGonagall’s hand. She glanced at the hospital bed with a mixture of worry and pride. Worry, because Hermione could have _died_. Pride, because Hermione could have died, if not for her quick thinking. Smart girl.

The basilisk had caused petrifications instead of death because the victims hadn’t had direct eye contact. Creevey had seen it through his camera. Finch-Fletchley had had Nearly-Headless Nick in front of him. The Gryffindor ghost, well he was already _dead_. Mrs Norris must have somehow escaped the basilisk’s direct gaze as well. Now Hermione and a Gryffindor prefect, Penelope Clearwater, had had a mirror.

Heather chivvied Hadrian and Ronald out of the hospital wing when Percy entered, despite their protests. She had a feeling that the older boy needed some time alone with his fellow prefect – or _more_ , judging by the devastation on his face.

This couldn’t go on. It had been sheer good fortune that no fatalities had arisen so far. The next victim might not be so lucky to have a camera or ghost or mirror with them.

~~~

“Did you hear?” George whispered, “Dumbledore’s been sacked. The Governor’s called in a vote of no-confidence.”

Fred snorted. “That’s not all. Hagrid’s been arrested! Apparently _he’s_ the one behind the attacks.”

“Hagrid?” Heather repeated sceptically. “Impossible. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.” Biased the half-giant might be, but he was too kind-hearted to hurt anyone. Besides, he had no reason to hurt muggleborns.

“We know! But he was charged the last-”

“-time the Chamber was opened too!”

“How do you guys know all this?”

Patting her on the head, they shook their heads secretively at her.

“Heather-harp-”

“-we have our sources.”

Amused, she said, “So you eavesdropped on the Professors with that invention of yours. Elongated Ears, or something.”

They scowled and hid their prototype listening device behind their backs.

~~~

Heather had an ominous feeling. The past few weeks had been tension-filled. No one walked anywhere alone, not even her fellow Slyths. No more attacks had taken place, but the possibility haunted them. Especially since the Headmaster had left. For all her misgivings, she knew that the old man had been doing his best – nothing to scoff at for such a powerful wizard.

Her brother had been snooping around. He had taken Hermione’s petrification personally. It had fuelled his determination to get to the bottom of the mystery.

What Heather was more concerned with, surprisingly, was not her brother’s actions. Ginny had become more taciturn and frightened. While her talk with the younger witch had cheered her up for a while, she had quickly reverted to her morose state. It was extremely worrying.

Heather turned into the dungeons, intending to speak with her Head of House. Walking into a corridor, she let out a horrified gasp. She ran as fast as she could the rest of her journey. Barely pausing to knock on the door, she slammed it open.

The Professor gave a nasty look. “What do-”

“There’s been another attack!”

Severus’ scathing diatribe died in his throat as Heather Lyra’s words registered. “Explain.”

“Another message, right down the hallway!” she said tremulously.

He clenched his jaw and stalked out of his office, following after the visibly shaken girl. She had not been this heavily affected even when she had found the Hufflepuff boy. Had there finally been a death?

_Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever_

_No._ Severus stared at the bloody phrase in shock before snapping out of it. “Follow me,” he commanded tersely. Minerva needed to hear about this.

The teacher’s lounge was conveniently filled with his fellow Heads of House.

“Severus, what-” Minerva asked when she saw the student behind him.

“The Heir has struck again,” he cut her off. “Miss Potter found another message.” He looked impatiently at the girl to explain herself.

The other Professors looked aghast at the eerie message, Minerva especially. She sighed mournfully and said, “It is Ginevra Weasley. Her friends reported her disappearance this morning.”

Heather Lyra started trembling faintly at his side. Severus glared at his colleague for mentioning it in front of a student. The Deputy seemed to realise her mistake and asked the girl to return to her dorms immediately.

“And please, keep this to yourself, Miss Potter.”

Heather Lyra frowned. “What about her brothers, ma’am?”

Minerva shook her head firmly. “Not until we can ascertain Miss Weasley’s condition.”

Heather agreed grudgingly and left the room. As she stepped out, she bumped into something she couldn’t see. Thinking rapidly, she grabbed whatever she could and pulled it into a nearby Transfiguration classroom.

She ripped off the invisibility cloak and wasn’t at all surprised to find her brother and Ronald looking crushed. “You heard all that,” she stated. Of course they had.

“Ginny’s been taken?” Ronald asked desperately.

“It hasn’t been confirmed,” she prevaricated. At the furious look, she gave in and added, “but the Professors believe so.”

“She might still be fine!” Rian said forcefully, “We could go save her!”

“Sure,” she snapped sarcastically, “lead the way to the Chamber of Secrets then!” Then she sighed and apologised for her outburst. She shouldn’t have taken her vexation out on them.

“We can ask Myrtle! You said she was a victim of the last incident!” her brother said hopefully.

“The Chamber of Secrets?” All three students jumped and spun around. Heather berated her own carelessness. Silencing and locking charms existed for a reason!

“That is _very_ dangerous indeed! Fortunately for you, you have a world-renowned adventurer and Defence Master at your service; _me_.” Gilderoy Lockhart strutted into the room and gave a pose.

Heather wanted to rip into the pompous man, but stopped herself and the two boy’s begging looks. Reluctantly, she accepted the man’s help. If they had a Professor with them, they technically couldn’t get into trouble. Even if said Professor was a total buffoon.

The ghost of Myrtle Warren certainly lived up to – err, died up to? – her nickname. She whinged and whined and _moaned_ about every little thing. Lockhart _was_ good for something after all. The bespectacled spectre was only too eager to share everything she knew with the primped wizard.

There was no way a basilisk could have entered the bathroom through the tiny door. Was there a hidden entrance somewhere? Heather, Rian and Ronald searched every inch of the bathroom while their daft Professor did nothing. He had probably gotten lost in his own gaze in the mirrors.

The only thing of interest they found were the snake engravings under the sinks. They tried all sorts of ways to open the hypothetical secret entrance, but to no avail.

Frustrated, Hadrian glowered at the inscriptions and groaned, _{Why won’t you jussst open!}_

The floor shook slightly and the sinks shifted away to leave a small tunnel.

“Huh,” Hadrian said, “ _That_ was easy.”

Heather shook her head. Her brother’s luck baffled her sometimes. “You were speaking Parsel, Rian.”

Lockhart looked up from where he had been fiddling with the cubicle doors. “Ah hah! There we go. See, the Chamber of Secrets is no match for moi!”

The all stared at the delusional man in disbelief before letting it go. There was no time to spare.

Before she could stop them, the two Gryffs jumped down the tunnel. Who knew how deep it went? Casting a _Lumos Maxima_ , she was relieved to see the boys relatively unharmed. She took a deep breath and followed suit.

Landing with a soft thump, she dusted them off with a quick cleaning spell. The catacombs they had landed in were littered with unidentified debris. Heather was decidedly _not_ curious.

“Unfortunately, my dear students, this is as far as you’ll be getting,” Lockhart announced, with a strange expression on his face. His arm shot out and he grabbed Ronald’s wand. What was the lunatic doing?

“Your help in getting here is much appreciated.” He grinned charmingly. “But I’ll be the one to complete this adventure. I can’t have troublesome little hangers-on in the way.” Raising his stolen wand, he intoned, _“Obliviate!”_

With lightning reflexes, Heather erected a shield charm the same time her brother did.  As it turned out, neither had been needed.

Apparently, the idiot hadn’t even realised that Ronald’s wand was broken, even after a year of classes with him. Sparks erupted wildly from the tip of the faulty wand, backfiring violently on the caster. For the fourth time in his year of teaching, Lockhart was blasted backwards – by his own spell, no less. Oh, the delicious irony.

Unfortunately, Heather hadn’t the opportunity to appreciate this, for the force of the failed memory charm had destroyed a nearby wall. The resulting avalanche of rubble injured Ronald, who had been closest to the older wizard.

“Ron!” Hadrian cried out. The boy barely retained consciousness and was heavily wounded.

Heather nudged her frantic brother out of the way and examined the Weasley. Nothing life-threatening, she sighed in relief.

“H-hadrian. Save my sister! N-no time!” the dazed boy whispered before passing out.

“Wait!” Heather exclaimed, “You can’t go alone! Let me heal Ron first.” She desperately sped up her healing, augmenting her spells with wandless magic.

Rian shook his head firmly. “No. It could be too late by then! Ginny’s life is on the line! And you have both Ron and Lockhart to tend to. Yes, _him_ too.” He said, turning to the Professor, soon to be _ex_ -Professor.

Flooding her patient’s cracked ribs with magic, she protested, “But-”

“But nothing! Don’t you trust me?”

Biting her lip anxiously, her heart flooded with despair. Her conscience wouldn’t let her abandon injured people when she could help – yes, even that deranged man over there – but her _brother_ …

“Just stay safe!” she eventually allowed. “And bring Ginny back!” She turned to look at her brother.

Hadrian had already left.


	39. The Chamber of Secrets

He was running. He hadn’t stopped, not since he’d left them back there. The tunnels seemed to stretch on endlessly.

Hadrian was painfully aware of time ticking by as he made a pitiful attempt to navigate this dark, dank maze. His thighs ached terribly and he was suddenly grateful for his crazy Captain’s strenuous exercise regime. Ignoring the pain, he pushed on mercilessly. Ginny was waiting.

Up ahead! A tiny pinprick of light. He raced towards it. As he got closer, a refreshing draft gusted by. A large room of sorts, then. Surely whatever sick villain was behind this was holding Ginny captive in there? An adrenaline-fuelled burst of speed propelled him into a large hall.

Hadrian had finally reached the Chamber of Secrets.

~~~

Healing the last of Ronald’s major injuries, she quickly moved on to her next patient. The injured boy wouldn’t be rousing anytime soon. She had placed a sleeping charm to prevent waking him during treatment.

Lockhart appeared in better shape than Ronald. He wasn’t hurt aside from a nasty bump on his head. But coupled with the rebounded _Obliviate_ , she had serious concerns for his mental aptitude once he awoke. Not that it had been very advanced _before_ this.

Part of Heather – a _very_ large part – yearned to chase after her brother now that these two were in stable condition. However, she knew that she had to get them to the infirmary. She wasn’t exactly a trained Healer. It was always better to seek professional medical assistance, even if she didn’t always do so. Besides, Lockhart’s mental damage wasn’t something that she could help. The sooner he got to a Mindhealer, the better his chances of recovery.

Heart screaming at her to run after her brother, she levitated the two males and went in the opposite direction.

~~~

“Who are you? Never mind, we’ve got to get out of here!” Hadrian whispered anxiously, “There’s a basilisk on the loose!”

He had found Ginny unconscious – too pale, too _still_ – in the centre of the antechamber. So focussed on her, he hadn’t noticed the blurry, translucent figure floating nearby.

The person (ghost?) looked about fifteen, with dark hair and solemn eyes. “Hello there. Are you here to take her back?”

“Yes,” he said tersely, whipping his wand out to cast _Mobilicorpus_.

In his haste, he wasn’t able to maintain his grip on his holly wand when it was yanked sharply. A silent disarming charm? Looking warily at the strange boy, Hadrian saw the cruel smile on his face.

“I’m afraid you can’t. Or rather, I won’t let you.”

A terrifying understanding dawned on Hadrian. He was looking at Slytherin’s Heir.

~~~

Bloody hell! Heather usually thought cussing was crude, but she felt entirely justified this time. Myrtle’s bathroom was just so damned _far_ from the hospital wing! They were in entirely different towers, which also meant that she had to tread the trick staircases. She didn’t have time for all this dithering!

At long last, she reached her destination. Bursting in, she shouted, “Madam Pomfrey!” She just had to hand Ronald and Lockhart into the matron’s care and then she could go back.

“Oh dear heavens above! What are you doing out of your dorms? The castle’s on lockdown!” The Mediwitch examined her patients worriedly. They were roughed up and awfully filthy. What had happened to them?

Heather ignored the queries and rattled off the two wizards’ statuses. Once she was done, she made to leave, but the school matron stopped her.

“Heather! You need to get back to you room! Wait, I’ll firecall Professor Snape.”

Oh, yes! That would be immensely helpful. Her Head of House was a powerful wizard. They’d be able to protect Hadrian and Ginny.

The Potions Professor stepped out of the fireplace. The unquestionably _incensed_ Professor.

“What do you suppose you are doing you imbecilic, foolhardy, moronic little _wretch_!” the wizard snarled heatedly.

Unfazed, Heather gave him a short recount. That was, she said, “Hadrian’s in the Chamber of Secrets.” As expected, the hopping-mad Professor followed her out the door.

~~~

“I’m Tom Riddle. Ginny has told me _much_ about you Hadrian Potter, famed Boy-Who-Lived,” the boy said pleasantly, as if he hadn’t just stolen Hadrian’s wand.

Staring unflinchingly at the newly-introduced Tom, he didn’t answer. The other boy clucked disappointedly at his non-reaction, then explained everything.

The diary. The petrifications. The _possession_.

All very informative; Riddle sure liked to hear himself speak. The monologue was fascinating, _truly_ , but Hadrian just wanted his wand back and them out of here.

He needed to destroy that diary. Somehow, he didn’t think a simple _Incendio_ would do the trick.

“You’re not even listening, are you boy?” the misty wizard growled in annoyance. Figured that was what ticked the egomaniac off. “Fine, maybe _this_ will get your attention.” He smirked maliciously and waved his hand.

Shining letters appeared in the air.

_TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE_

Then they rearranged themselves.

_I AM LORD VOLDEMORT_

Hadrian froze. Riddle – Voldemort – had been right on _that_ count.

“Ahh, yes. That terror on your face is _ever_ so pleasing.” Hadrian had _known_ that guy was a sick sod. “I know what else can cause even more fear,” Riddle said in a lilting tone.

_{Ssspeak to me, Ssslytherin, greatessst of the Hogwartsss four!}_

The whole chamber rumbled ominously.  A creaky sound came from a large statue of Salazar Slytherin. Its stone mouth opened wider and wider and Hadrian’s mimicked it. He shot a quick thanks to the Powers that Be for his sister’s paranoia.

Because emerging from the gaping maw of Salazar Slytherin was the King of Serpents itself.

~~~

“Is this really the time to powder your nose, Miss Potter?” Professor Snape drawled, “I believe we have an emergency.”

Heather grinned faintly and opened the door to Myrtle’s bathroom. One could always count on the Professor’s cutting wit. “Well,” she said in a similar tone, though she couldn’t insert quite _that_ much condescension, “the beckoning of Nature’s Call is difficult to ignore.” Indifferently, she added, “Besides, this is the entrance to the Chamber.”

“This is no time for your tomfoolery, you brat! You expect me to believe that Salazar Slytherin his secret chamber in a girl’s toilet?”

Seeing was believing, they said. Heather walked in and frowned in dismay at the normal-looking bathroom. The entrance had sealed itself again. Fantastic. Taking a breath, she forced her vocal chords to form alien syllables. She eventually managed to successfully hiss a mangled, _{Open,}_ after several failed attempts.

Like before, the sinks shifted to reveal the tunnel that led into Slytherin’s hidden chamber. She jumped in after warning the Professor.

“You speak Parseltongue as well?” the wizard said, shocked. He looked unruffled even after his leap into a dark tunnel. Typical.

“No,” she replied as they ran along the shadowy paths, “but I grew up hearing Rian speak it. He did it a lot unconsciously, especially when highly emotional. It was simply easier for us both for me to learn it.” She apparently babbled a lot when worried.

“Parseltongue cannot be _learnt_ ,” the older man scoffed irritably.

“Not completely. I can understand most of what Rian says, mostly by memorisation. Unless he’s hissing too quickly. I can also imitate a few words. However, I can’t communicate with snakes at all. That’s the limit, I guess, for non-Parselmouths.”

“Intriguing,” the man said. “The trait is not typical of your bloodline.”

Heather forced a noncommittal hum at the veiled question. _That_ , she was painfully aware of. The first time Hadrian had spoken in Parseltongue was the day after Voldemort’s attack.

Though the conversation had turned to a less cheerful topic, Heather was immensely grateful for the distraction from the current predicament that Professor Snape had provided. She suspected that that had been the brusque Professor’s main aim.

That, and the Slytherin was _very_ curious about the language of serpents.

~~~

_“Obscuro!”_

Heather’s training kicked in when the basilisk emerged in its full glory. Spells might not work on it, but they definitely worked on _Hadrian_. A tight blindfold materialised over his eyes, cutting off his vision completely.

“Wandless magic. So you have some tricks of your own,” Riddle commented with a dark undertone. “No matter, Ssshesssha has more weaponsss than her eyesss,” he hissed in not-quite-Parsel.

Hadrian took little notice off the other’s by-play and silently cast a sonar charm. It was used by blind wizards whose eyes couldn’t be fixed, even with magic. It wouldn’t give him perfect vision, but he could feel where all the things in the room were. Perfect in this scenario.

Not much could kill a basilisk. It was impervious to magic and had very thick skin. Short of stabbing it with a razor-sharp magical sword, it was invulnerable. Except for its fatal weakness.

The cry of a rooster.

Heather had been very specific – and even more thorough – in her instruction. By now, Hadrian figured he was a dab hand at basilisk extermination. And his sister had, indeed, aimed to kill.

Wandless conjuration was difficult. Immensely so. Even Headmaster Dumbledore, who was a Transfiguration Master, avoided doing it. Hadrian had been drilled to perform this one feat over and over. Tied up, even, for some odd reason. If he wanted to conjure anything else out of nothing without his wand, he would have a much harder time of it.

The piercing cry of the cockerel stopped the serpent in its tracks. It gave a wordless hiss of pain.

_{NO! Go after the boy, you ssstupid beassst!}_ Riddle shouted furiously.

Visibly struggling, the basilisk started towards Hadrian again. He wasn’t worried. The rooster would weaken and eventually kill the giant snake. Then, he did something amazingly foolish.

He got distracted.

He felt Ginny’s body convulse violently on the floor. Despite his lack of vision, he turned to her instinctively in worry. Too late, he realised that even drained and half-dead, basilisks were natural predators. It lunged in at the opening, embedding a deadly fang in his arm. Hadrian screamed at the excruciating pain. Having done its duty, the snake finally succumbed to the fatal cry of the rooster.

Burning pain lanced up his arm as the ghost-memory- _whatever_ cackled madly. “Too late now, Hadrian Potter! Soon the venom will extinguish your pitiful existence. The diary will drain whatever that’s left of poor Ginny Weasley’s life and I. Will. Be. REVIVED!”

Not if he could help it. Staggering to the younger Gryffindor, he wrenched the broken fang from his arm with a swallowed cry and thrust it firmly into the open book beside her.

“No! You idiot boy! How dare you!” Black fumes rose from the book as a high-pitched shriek echoed in the chamber. The furious rant faded away, as did the phantom of Tom Marvolo Riddle.

But Hadrian didn’t notice.

The last thing he heard was a desperate shout, jarring harshly with a melodious trilling that carried him peacefully into the abyss.


	40. Ditching the Shackles

“No!” Heather watched in horror as Hadrian crumpled like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Her vision tunnelled to focus solely on her brother as she rushed forward. Falling to her knees, she cradled him carefully in her arms.

The bloody wound in his arm stood out in stark contrast to his rapidly paling skin. Reaching out with her magic, she attempted to draw out the venom. It fought viciously, like the beast it was produced by. Despite knowing that basilisk venom was fatal, she couldn’t help but try anyway.

All she succeeded in doing was bleed Hadrian out further.

“Miss Potter!” A firm but gentle hand shook her. Professor Snape. Right, he had come with her.

“Professor!” She looked desperately at him. “Do you have a potion, any potion?! Please, you need to save him!” In her panic, she almost missed the fiery mass of feathers on his shoulders.

He shook her, more roughly this time. “Calm down, child! Let the phoenix do its work! Think! What are the properties of phoenix tears?”

Slowly, she let up, giving space for Fawkes to land on Hadrian. “Healing. Phoenix tears can heal almost anything.”

“Correct, now _breathe_.” The Professor’s hand on her shoulder provided a steadying presence to her tattered nerves. She took a deep, shaky breath and let it out.

Calmer now, she watched the phoenix cry lifesaving tears on the gaping wound. The almost-blue blood gradually lightened to a more normal shade and the flow slowed down to a trickle. Eventually, the wound sealed up, leaving behind a circular dark pink scar.

She all but cried her own tears at the sight. Hadrian would be okay.

~~~

The girl sat at her brother’s bedside. Her eyes hadn’t left his prone body since Poppy had seen to him. That damnable luck had saved the boy again.

A Merlin-be-damned _basilisk_!

The boy had slain a basilisk. And lived to tell the tale. Well, not quite yet. He was still unconscious.

He should smack himself for not realising it earlier. All the signs had been there. The roosters, the petrifications.  Yet mere _students_ had deduced it quicker.

If he’d known that it was a basilisk they were dealing with, he’d never have let Heather Lyra go. In fact, none of the students should have entered the chamber! Why hadn’t they informed any of the Professors? Why hadn’t she informed _him_?

‘But they didn’t need your help, did they, Severus?’ a mocking voice in his head said.

No, they hadn’t. Potter had single-handedly killed a giant basilisk and only had a scar to show for it. And that Weasley girl hadn’t even been injured.

Still, he was angry. No, _furious_. Furious at Heather Lyra for rushing into that like an impetuous Gryffindor. Furious at Albus for allowing it to happen on his watch. Why else would his damned bird have known to come to the rescue? Most of all, he was fuming mad at the accursed boy for running headlong into danger, with no thought for any consequences.

Consequences, namely, the anguish he caused his sister.

How many times, was it now, that Heather Lyra had sat at this very same bedside in self-reproach and grief, blaming herself for things she couldn’t control? Very much like a Gryffindor in that respect, her martyrdom. He blamed it on the company she kept.

Disgusted, he left the room. The boy couldn’t feel the burn of his glares while unconscious anyway.

~~~

Hadrian blinked as he surfaced from what felt like a deep, deep sleep. Squinting his eyes at the sudden brightness, he stretched out his arms to get rid of the typical morning stiffness.

And cringed.

His limbs were crying in _agony._ What tortures had Oliver inflicted to merit this? His eyes burst wide open as he caught sight of the white bed hangings. They looked familiar… He turned to the side gingerly, minding his sore muscles.

Yup, _definitely_ a déjà vu moment.

Sitting at his bedside, looking wretched and worn out, was his sister. The sight, as usual, caused his heart to squeeze painfully. All he ever seemed to do was cause Heather worry.

He remembered now the fiasco that had landed him in this position. The Chamber of Secrets and Ginny and Tom Riddle-Voldemort.

And the pain. The burning pain.

His gaze flew to his arm. Where he had been expecting a bloody, gaping wound, sat a pinkish scar instead. Basilisk venom. It was fatal. Had Heather managed to cure him? She had managed the impossible before.

“Fawkes,” his sister stated when she caught his confused look, “He cried for you.”

“Do you need some water? Are you in any pain? Shall I call Madam Pomfrey? Maybe another blanket or two?”

At the deluge of questions, Hadrian shook his head firmly. His sister would be much more protective the next few weeks, he knew.

“Did I manage to get rid of Voldemort, at least?” he asked worriedly.

Uh oh. Heather’s stare sharpened and she demanded an explanation. So Hadrian told her everything. About the diary and the little anagram. Her expression grew from alarmed to furious and he braced himself.

“That book we found was in tatters, so that’s one problem gone, at least,” Heather said in a carefully controlled tone.

That was it? Hadrian tilted his head in disbelief. “You’re not going to give me another ‘You should be more careful!’ rant?”

“You made the best of a horrible situation. From the sounds of it, you handled yourself well enough before you lost focus. You remembered all that training. _I’m_ the one who gave you the go ahead,” she said, self-reproach heavy on her tongue.

He made to protest, but a _look_ cut him off. He knew his sister wouldn’t listen anyway. He got his stubbornness from her, after all.

“Well,” Heather said too-brightly, “while we wait for Madam Pomfrey to discharge you, I’ve got some questions for you.” She took out a hefty stack of parchment, mood lifting. This was a much happier topic. It wasn’t the time for her inadequacies.

Her brother looked at her curiously and waited. “Do you prefer tall or wide buildings?”

Rian scrunched his brows but answered, “Tall?”

“Right.” She made a note. “Crowded or secluded places?”

Despite his obvious befuddlement at the random questions, he continued replying, “Not crowded with strangers. I wouldn’t mind if they were friends.”

“Antique or modern styles?”

“Maybe rustic, but not ancient, y’know?”

And so on. Heather asked him various odd questions while he did his best to answer without context. She finally ran out of questions and tucked the papers away.

“So, what do those tell you?” her brother asked.

“Tell me what?” It was her turn to look confused.

“About my personality. Wasn’t that one of those quizzes in Witch Weekly or something?”

“You’ll find out soon,” she said cryptically. She would get him back for that comment. He really thought she read _that_ insipid rag?

~~~

“You did what?!”

Hadrian smiled sheepishly and made a vague gesture to his side. Heather looked at the scruffy house elf who was vibrating in excitement.

She sighed explosively. “You went and offended Lucius Malfoy. A Lord of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Politician extraordinaire. School governor. _That_ Lucius Malfoy?”

“Actually, he’s been sacked from the school board.”

“His wealth is all the good standing he needs,” she snapped irritably, “You _know_ he could make life very difficult for us!”

Her brother mumbled something indecipherable.

“I can’t hear you, Rian.”

“I _said_ ,” he muttered petulantly, “he drove you off the team!”

Surprised, Heather had no reply. He had done that for _her_? She hadn’t known that he was still sore about Malfoy taking her place as seeker. Despite herself, she smiled fondly. “Rian, you didn’t need to do that; I was fine with it.”

Mulishly, her brother said, “At any rate, Malfoy treated Dobby horribly. Now he’s free!”

The house elf nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes! Great Hadrian Potter has saved Dobby from the nasty man! Now Dobby is free to serve Magnificent Hadrian Potter!” Dobby enthused, looking adoringly at Rian.

Now her brother had a worried look. “Dobby… Heather and I don’t need a house elf. Besides, our relatives are muggles. Why don’t you work at Hogwarts?”

Dobby shook his head frantically. “No! Dobby would be most pleased to serve Master and Mistress Potter! Unless Wonderful Hadrian Potter and Marvellous Heather Potter believe Dobby incapable!” He looked in imminent danger of concussion by fevered head-banging.

Heather cut the miserable elf off sharply. “Stop that Dobby!” Turning to her brother, she said, “Why don’t you go visit Hermione? Professor Snape just administered the potion.” In fact, that was the very reason why she hadn’t known about his meeting with the Headmaster – she had been assisting with the Mandrake Restorative Draught. “I’ll talk to Dobby.” At Rian’s hesitation, she smiled reassuringly and urged him to run along.

She needed a _private_ talk with the eager-to-please house elf.

~~~

Headmaster Dumbledore’s office was just as quirky as it was a year ago. Heather saw that Fawkes was preening his brilliant plumage on his stand.

“Thank you very much for saving Hadrian, Fawkes,” she said with utmost sincerity. Without his miraculous tears, her brother would probably have died. Her efforts hadn’t been effective at all.

The phoenix trilled merrily and butted his head against her outstretched hand. She obliged the request and stroked her fingers through the fiery feathers.

“Ahh, Heather. You’re here, excellent.” Professor Dumbledore strolled into the room from seemingly nowhere. “Sit, sit! Would you like a lemon sherbet? No? Then tea, perhaps? Very well.”

A full tea service popped onto the desk, startling Heather with the suddenness. “Sugar, cream?” She shook her head and took the offered cup.

“Now, I have asked to speak with you regarding your and your brother’s holiday plans. I believe you were going to stay with the Weasleys this summer?” the Headmaster asked mildly.

She nodded, though it wasn’t necessary. He surely knew all this already.

“Minerva – Professor McGonagall tells me she has already informed you of the blood wards?” Another nod. “So you understand the importance of Hadrian staying at your Aunt’s home? Especially with recent events concerning Voldemort. He is gaining strength.”

Heather took a casual sip of tea and focussed her thoughts. “It’s only for the first two weeks, sir. I promise Hadrian and I will return to our home after that for the remainder of our vacation.”

The wizened old man’s face smoothed in relief. “That is good to hear, my girl. I truly apologise for having to restrict your holiday plans, but needs must. Enjoy your summer, Heather.”

Oh, she would, and so would Rian.

~~~

“Do we really have to go?” Hadrian moaned.

“Yes, Rian. I told the Headmaster two weeks. And we shouldn’t impose too much on the Weasleys,” Heather repeated.

“They don’t seem to want us to go,” he muttered. He looked longingly around the living room that was more of a home than Privet Drive had ever been.

It was true. The Weasleys had been immensely grateful to them for saving Ginny. Coupled with the fact that Mr and Mrs Weasley knew about Vernon’s attack, the fierce matriarch had been a hairsbreadth from storming the Headmaster’s office and demanding they stay at the Burrow. Fortunately, Heather had persuaded her otherwise.

“This is it, huh?” Fred said.

“Yeah, that sucks,” George piped in.

“At least we got to-”

“-celebrate your birthday this time.”

Her brother’s eyes lit up in remembrance. “Yeah, that was awesome!” They had had a joint celebration this year. They’d had an outing to Diagon Alley. Bill had shown them some lesser-known corners that had rarer wares at bargain rates. While she’d had a brilliant time, that hadn’t been the highlight of her fifteenth birthday.

No, _that_ honour was reserved for her trip to Gringotts.

“Send your _little friend_ if-” Fred whispered.

“-that bastard tries anything, yeah?” George said discreetly.

Heather knew she wouldn’t be needing to send her Patronus this summer. “If you guys are so worried,” she said perkily, “why don’t you visit us?” With that statement, she grabbed Hadrian into the floo with her and murmured her destination.

The twins’ confused shouts swirled away as Heather and Hadrian were engulfed in green flames. The spinning and twisting sensations were intensified – doubled. There was a reason why most people flooed one-by-one. She gritted her teeth and tightened her hold on her brother.

They were flung out of the fireplace and she collapsed into Rian’s arms. She would never get the hang of this, would she?

Hadrian took in the dark wood panelling, large windows and plush furniture. He could see the lush yard and the surrounding forest outside. It was a beautiful house. It was also entirely unfamiliar. “What- Heather, where _are_ we?” he asked, slightly panicked.

Shaking her head, Heather righted herself. Sweeping her hands out, she announced, “Welcome to the Nest – our new home!”


	41. New Beginnings

_Heather’s fifteenth birthday:_

Heather walked confidently through the polished oak doors. Sitting at the desk was Griphook, whom she had appointed the Potter accounts manager three years ago.

“Greetings Heiress Potter. Right on time,” the goblin said tersely.

“Hello Griphook. Has everything been prepared?”

“Indeed.” He handed her a sheath of documents. “Only the authentication is needed now. Your appointment with Ragnok is in ten minutes.”

“Fantastic!” she said in satisfaction. “Everything seems to be in order. It looks lovely; exactly how I envisioned it.”

“Gringotts _always_ provides top-notch service,” Griphook grunted, seemingly offended by the implied slight.

She nodded amicably. Working with him through the years had taught her how to deal with these irritable creatures.

“Come, Ragnok awaits.”

Heather followed her guide into another office. The Chieftain’s room was much larger and more opulent than his subordinate’s, showing proof of his superior financial acumen and battle prowess.

“Heiress Potter,” the menacing goblin growled. “Your final testing begins when you step into this room,” he said, pointing to an adjoining chamber.

Assuredly, Heather stepped right in.

…

Panting tiredly, she nonetheless gave a victorious grin.

“Congratulations, Heiress Potter. You need only sign here to make the final changes.” A scroll was presented to her and she read through it carefully. Approving it, she signed with a flourish.

“Let it be known that from henceforth, Heather Lyra Potter has taken the mantle of Lady Potter.” The goblins in attendance made fearsome battle cries in accordance with tradition to show their support of the ruling.

“As of now, Lady Potter is legally emancipated. We at Gringotts formally welcome her again as a mature client.”

Heather bowed respectfully at the members of the warrior race. Her plans had finally come to fruition – and without tipping anyone off, too. She couldn’t wait to show Rian the house.

~~~

_Present time:_

“You’re an adult now?” Hadrian asked, shocked.

“The term is legally emancipated. I technically have all the rights of a mature witch. Except the use of my wand. The Ministry made specific stipulations for that.”

“And so you’re my official guardian?” he questioned excitedly.

“Yup, and as your new guardian, I got us a house to live in,” she said, waving her arms around the room.

At the reminder, her brother looked around their new residence. He ran to the windows and pressed his face against the glass. “Where _are_ we?” he repeated.

“Hmm…in the forests near a town called Ottery St Catchpole.”

He murmured the name again. “You mean…?”

“Uh huh. Walking distance from the Burrow!”

Hadrian jumped for joy and tackled her into a hug. They crashed backwards into the settee behind them, laughing. “We really live here now? No more Privet Drive?”

“No more Privet Drive. No more hiding. Most importantly, no more Dursleys,” Heather said firmly.

Whooping for joy, he leapt to his feet. “Well, what are we waiting for? I wanna explore our new home!”

‘Our _home_.’ Yeah, she could get used to that.

~~~

It was a cosy little place. It didn’t span a lot of the grounds. Heather had ordered it made according to Hadrian’s specifications. Tall, he’d wanted, so it was built upwards instead of outwards.

The first floor had the kitchen, a dining room and the sitting room. Though she’d added a dining room, they would probably eat at the island in the kitchen most of the time.

The second floor held their bedrooms with en-suites and a study-cum-library. She had been hesitant to give them their own bedrooms, but she knew Hadrian wouldn’t be comfortable sleeping together forever. The library was one of the biggest rooms in the house. She had foreseen that they would need all the space.

The third floor was actually a roomy attic with a loft and balcony that she’d left empty for Rian to decorate. She would let him have free reign of this space since he liked being high up. He’d been ecstatic about living in Gryffindor Tower. That was also why he enjoyed flying so much.

There was also a basement floor which she’d converted into a potions lab. It didn’t have much yet since she was still restricted to basic ingredients. When she got her OWL next year, the lab would be much better stocked.

Outside the house was a decent-sized yard where Heather planned to plant an herb garden. Maybe some lilies as well. The forest surrounding them was rather dense. When she’d said ‘walking distance from the Burrow’, it was strictly in terms of distance. It wasn’t safe enough for them to traverse through the forest. The goblins had really taken her seriously when she’d said somewhere difficult to get to. Only she and her brother were keyed into the wards here. Other people could only enter if they had express permission to, and only for that one time.

~~~

“Magnificent Hadrian Potter and Splendid Heather Potter, dinner is being served!”

Hadrian jerked in surprise at the sudden arrival of a familiar house elf. “Dobby!”

“Yes, Master Hadrian. Dobby is Potter elf now!”

Her brother turned to her in question. Heather nodded her head wearily. “He was very insistent. Somehow, Dobby knew that I’d bought a house for us. That was why he said that he wanted to serve us.”

“Elfs know these things, Mistress Heather. Dinner awaits. You two need fattening!” he said disapprovingly.

“At least you got him to call us by our first names. Sort of,” Rian muttered.

~~~

“Oh my!” Mrs Weasley exclaimed. “This is lovely!”

“Yeah, wicked!”

“Awesome place!”

“Brill’!”

The Weasleys made various sounds of approval and amazement when they stepped through the floo.

“How did you manage all this, Heather? You’re not seventeen yet,” Mr Weasley said.

Hadrian launched into an eager explanation of the process that had Heather rolling her eyes.

“Don’t listen to him; he’s exaggerating. What’s important is that I’m considered of age now.”

“Still, this is impressive,” the man praised. “It must have been horribly tedious to jump through the Ministry’s hoops.” He would know, of course, working for the Ministry as he was.

“Actually, the goblins handled almost everything,” she admitted.

“Who cares who-” George cut in,

“-did what? You’re free!” Fred said.

“You sly snake, you!” they crowed.

“Well, it’s wonderful that you won’t have to return to those horrid people,” Mrs Weasley said. “You really should have said something though,” she berated mildly, “I was really worried to send you two off, you know! If it wasn’t for Albus’ insistence, you two would be staying with us!”

Heather ducked her head in embarrassment. “Sorry Mrs Weasley. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

The older witch tutted. “What’s done is done. Now, where’s your kitchen?”

“Oh, you don’t have to do anything, Mrs Weasley. You’re our guests!”

“Nonsense! While I’m at it, I’d better check to see if it’s stocked well. You two are much too thin as it is!”

Both siblings protested. Why did everyone keep saying that?

~~~

It was with mild reluctance that Heather and Hadrian left for Hogwarts that September. Even Anguis and Hedwig felt hesitant to leave. While the Burrow had come to be almost a home to them both, they had been all too conscious of the fact that it wasn’t really theirs. The Nest, on the other hand, was really, truly _theirs_.

It was absolutely wonderful having their very own home. Even doing the various chores was pleasant (except to Dobby, who had thrown a minor fit before agreeing to a compromise) because they knew it was to keep their home in tip-top shape. No wonder Petunia had taken so much pride in maintaining her house – even if she hadn’t really done any of the work herself.

Dobby had been despondent in the days preceding their journey to Hogwarts. Heather had had to let him come with them in the end, though he would be going back to the Nest periodically for general upkeep.

Additionally, Heather knew that going to Hogwarts meant having to tell the Professors about her emancipation. She wasn’t looking forward to _that_ conversation.

~~~

“Come on Rian, before all the compartments are occupied,” Heather urged her brother. They walked briskly towards the Hogwarts Express. The Weasley children would join them later, they assumed. Mr Weasley had struck the lottery, so the family had taken a trip to visit Bill in Egypt during the past two weeks.

Heather first checked their usual compartment and found it occupied by Hufflepuff sixth years.

One of the boys stood and smiled in welcome. “Hey Potter and, err, Potter. You don’t have to leave, join us!” Cedric Diggory, the Puffs’ seeker, said affably.

Heather inclined her head in greeting while her brother waved shyly. “Diggory. You can just call us by our first names. _That_ could get confusing fast.”

“Sure,” the tall boy agreed. “Then call me Cedric. C’mon, there’s enough space for you two in here.” He waved to the two empty spaces between him and the window.

She shook her head. “That’s alright. We’re actually waiting for several others too. It’ll be too cramped in here with them. We can find another compartment. Thanks for the offer! It was nice seeing you guys.” She glanced at the other Hufflepuffs who were staring dubiously at her. They all relaxed when they heard that comment. Really, no subtlety at all.

“Oh, that’s too bad.” Surprisingly, Cedric showed genuine disappointment at that. No wonder he was dubbed the ‘Mr Nice Guy’ of Hogwarts. (In addition to ‘Hufflepuff Hottie’, ‘Pretty Boy Diggory’ and so on.) “Well, see you two around school then!”

Heather waved goodbye and she saw Rian shoot a small smile at the other male. Good – he didn’t have many friends outside of Gryffindor. (Not that she had much room to talk.) It would do him good to connect with Cedric.

They walked along the corridor and found another mostly empty compartment. There was only a single man inside. She opened her mouth to ask if they could sit in there, but realised he was fast asleep. Dark circles ringing his eyes and messy stubble lining his face, the man looked exhausted. She and her brother took their seats quietly, not wanting to wake the man. He obviously needed his rest. The name on his briefcase read: R J Lupin. He was most likely the new DADA teacher. Lockhart had been admitted as a permanent patient in the Janus Thickey ward of St Mungo’s due to irreparable mental damage. She felt pretty bad, but he _had_ cast the spell himself.

Heather heard a slight commotion. The Weasleys were here. She would recognise Fred and George’s particular brand of shenanigans anywhere. She stood to head them off. They would surely wake Professor Lupin with all that noise. Sliding the compartment door open, she shushed the redheads firmly before waving them over. Fred, George, Ron and Ginny walked in at a more subdued volume. Neville and Hermione followed after. They must have met them on the way. Percy wasn’t with them, unsurprisingly. Of course, he also had his prefect – now Head Boy – duties to attend to. Heather had been offered the prefect badge, but had rejected, citing her busy schedule. Privately, she reasoned that looking out for her Gryffindor brother was already a full-time job.

Indicating the slumbering man in the corner, Heather and Hadrian made quiet greetings to their friends. They chatted softly about their respective summer holidays, though Heather and Hadrian had spent much of it at home. The Weasleys had had their trip to Egypt. Neville had gone to France with his Grandmother. Hermione had gotten a half-kneazle named Crookshanks. The feline purred approvingly at Anguis when they were introduced, but hissed in anger at Ron’s pet rat. Crookshanks even leapt off his human’s lap to pounce on Scabbers, who scurried off in fear. That caused Ron to go off on Hermione and she had to put the cat in its carrier. That seemed to bond Anguis and Crookshanks even closer. It was odd how both of them hated Scabbers. Even Trevor avoided him.

As the squabble died down, they went back to chatting about their holidays. Suddenly, the train jerked to a sudden stop and the lights flickered out. Alarmed, Heather’s immediate thought was to cast a _Lumos_ , but she couldn’t use her wand yet and there was a stranger in the room, so she couldn’t use wandless magic.

“What’s going on?”

“Why have we stopped?”

“Is it a short circuit?” That must have been Hermione.

“Calm, down guys!” Heather said above the din. “Let’s just wait it out. Either the prefects or the Professor on duty will settle this.”

“You mean the guy sleeping there?” Ron said.

Hadrian shook his head, though it was barely visible in the dark. “He’s new, so they probably haven’t given him any duties. I’d guess it’s another Professor.”

The room had gradually gotten chillier. Had the heating charms worn off as well? Slowly, the door slid open.

“That must be a prefect now!” Hermione commented hopefully.

But Heather frowned. An eerie feeling crept into her heart. She shivered faintly and her hair stood on end. “Step back, guys.” She pushed the others away from the door. “That’s no prefect.”

Sure enough, the _thing_ on the other side wasn’t Penelope Clearwater or Percy Weasley. Not even Cedric Diggory. The tall figure draped in ripped black robes drifted menacingly into the room. The temperature dropped further and a palpable feeling of dread filled the room.

“Back away from it!” a rough voice shouted. Professor Lupin had awoken at last. The man stepped forward to shield them from the wraith. Heather shakily fingered her wand. Damn the Ministry! Underage magic was allowed in cases of self-defence. Trying to gather her scattered thoughts, she searched for happy memories. Showing Rian the invisibility cloak and Marauder’s Map, the Polyjuice incident with the twins, her Prince. All the joy was leached from her mind by the despair the thing emanated. The image of puke green light hurtling towards her family was forcibly brought forward. The dementor – creature of desolation.

Shaking her head, she caught a glance of her brother’s terrified form. He was trembling violently and staring glassily at the dark creature. She steeled herself and locked out all negative emotions. For Hadrian. Recalling his beatific expression when she showed him around the Nest, she summoned her tiny Patronus. At the same time, the Professor conjured his own mist of white. Hidden by the larger fog, her chosen protector drove off the dementor unseen. In the midst of the chaos, her wandless Patronus went unnoticed.

Shouts caught her attention. She spun around and saw her brother collapsed in Ron’s arms. His taller friend carried him to the seats and set him down gently. Drowning in worry, she almost didn’t notice the Professor reaching for her brother. She slapped his hand away. Who knew what the total stranger wanted.

“Easy there. I’m just checking on him,” the man said gently. Heather looked suspiciously at the man. He appeared sincere enough. She didn’t protest when he cast a spell. She recognised it as a general diagnostic. “He’s fine, but he’ll be disoriented when he wakes. Give him some chocolate to calm him.” The wizard dug around his pockets for some, but Heather shook her head and told him she had her own. She didn’t, but Fred or George probably did. Taking sweets from strangers was the oldest mistake in the book.

The Professor smiled, almost sadly, at her rebuff and went to contact his colleague on duty. His smile, although unhappy, had brought a niggling feeling of déjà vu. As if she had seen him before. Pushing those thoughts aside, she rennervated Hadrian wandlessly. Those left in the compartment were either in the know or trustworthy enough to be.

Rian’s bright green eyes fluttered open. “Whaa?” He sat up slowly, blinking dazedly.

“Hey there Hadrian. Here.” Heather handed him the chocolates that Fred had passed to her. He nibbled lightly on one. “Feeling better?” He nodded.

“What happened?” he asked when he had finished them all.

“You fainted, mate,” Ron said.

“That creature was awful! It came in and it felt like all the happiness was sucked away.” Hermione shivered at the thought.

“Those are called dementors. Creatures that drain joy, leaving despair. They can literally suck your souls out, leaving you as empty husks,” Heather explained dully.

“Sheesh, way to-” Fred said.

“-kill the mood, eh?” George continued weakly.

“I heard screaming, who was it?” Rian questioned in concern.

Uncomfortable silence was heard before Ron said, “No one. We didn’t hear anything.”

“But I heard a feminine scream for sure. Ginny?” He turned to her.

“Nope, but it was a near thing.”

Fortunately, Hermione changed the subject before Heather had to. “Why are there dementors around? Aren’t they usually guarding Azkaban?”

“Must be because of-”

“-that Sirius Black fellow. He-”

“-escaped prison didn’t he?”

Whatever the reason, Heather just hoped the rest of the year would be uneventful. Already, this didn’t bode well.


	42. Truths Unveiled

Heather hadn’t felt this apprehensive about meeting Professor Snape in a long time.

“Enter,” the man’s voice stated curtly. He raised a brow when he looked at her. “Yes, Miss Potter?”

“Good evening, sir. I am here to inform you of a change in address for myself and Hadrian.”

The dour wizard gave an unimpressed look. “You need not be concerned with that. Wherever your Aunt and Uncle have moved to, the school will be able to magically track it.”

Heather took a deep breath to steel herself. “They have not moved.”

“Then rest assured that we can track their new residence when they do.”

“I mean,” she said firmly, “that they do not have any intention to move – that I know of. However, Hadrian and I have done so already. I am here to provide our new address.”

Professor Snape narrowed his eyes. “Explain. Now.”

“I purchased a house for me and Hadrian to live in. Without our relatives. We were living there this summer.”

The man stood abruptly. “Follow me,” he growled.

Refusing to let herself be cowed, Heather followed him with her head held high. As expected, they arrived at the gargoyle outside the Headmaster’s office.

“Cockroach Clusters,” the Professor spat derisively.

The door swung open and they entered.

“Professor Snape, Heather. What a surprise!” Headmaster Dumbledore said jovially. “Lemon sherbet?”

“This is no time for your blasted confections, Albus! The girl has gone and moved out!”

The elderly wizard’s face furrowed in mild concern. “Pardon me? Would you two like to take a seat? I feel this will be a long conversation.”

Heather obligingly sat on one of the plush armchairs while the Potions Master continued to hover intimidatingly.

“Now, would you start from the beginning please?”

“Ask the girl.”

Professor Dumbledore turned his inquiring look to Heather.

“Hadrian and I have moved out of our relatives’ house. We lived in our new residence after leaving the Burrow,” she repeated.

Now the Headmaster looked very worried. “Heather, my girl, did we not agree that you and your brother would return home after your stay with the Weasleys?”

“Yes,” she said, “and we _did_ go home. To our new one.”

The wizard leaned forward. “I’m afraid I will have to insist you move back to live with your Aunt. As a minor, you have to live with your legal guardian.”

She lifted her chin. “Then it is fortunate that I am legally emancipated. Under Exception Clause 4 of the Inheritance Decrees, any fifteen-year-old Heir or Heiress may attempt to inherit their titles through completing certain tasks administered by the goblins of Gringotts. I successfully fulfilled the legal criteria to succeed the Potter Ladyship on my fifteenth birthday.”

Professor Dumbledore nodded distractedly. “Yes, yes. I am familiar with the process.” The man looked at her closely. “Applicants need to prove their worth in three areas. Namely, financially, intellectually and magically. None have succeeded in the past decade.”

Defiantly, she said, “My past examination results speak for themselves.” Unless he wanted to imply that his school’s tests weren’t up to standard. “As for my financial capability, I have a healthy portfolio of investments that my accounts manager assisted in implementing, though that is hardly in your jurisdiction.”

The Headmaster shook his head. “No, my girl. I did not mean to imply that you were inadequate. Simply that the magical test has always been nearly insurmountable. Countless have tried – and failed – that final task.”

“I’m afraid I am under contractual obligation not to divulge any information regarding the final test,” she said neutrally. Except to those she trusted implicitly. Like Rian and the Weasleys. Let’s just say it involved all the top-tier warriors in the branch and an all-out battle royale.

“Nevertheless, I must impress upon you the importance of the blood wards. As long as Hadrian calls your Aunt’s house home, he is protected from Voldemort and his followers,” Professor Dumbledore said seriously.

In a conversational tone, Heather asked, “Tell me, Headmaster, have you ever changed a baby’s diaper?”

Nonplussed by the abrupt topic change, the man answered, “No, I cannot say I have.”

“Hmm,” she hummed. “The first time I changed a diaper – Hadrian’s – was when I was three.”

He nodded slowly. “It is admirable that you would assist in your brother’s care, even at such a young age. What-”

Continuing as if she hadn’t heard him speak, Heather said, “Petunia refused to go anywhere near Rian, of course. She never changed his diaper – even once.”

The confusion on the man’s face grew. “Does your Aunt not have a son about your brother’s age? Surely she wasn’t apprehensive about baby-care?”

“Yes, _Dudley_ ,” she sneered. “Petunia and Vernon’s _beloved_ son. No, of course she knows how to take care of infants. She simply didn’t want to do the same for Hadrian.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“What are you blathering on about, girl?” After remaining silent through most of the exchange, Professor Snape finally spoke up.

“Let me put it simply,” she said blithely, “The Dursleys hate magic. They hate me and they hate Hadrian. Number 4 Privet Drive has _never_ been a home to us.”

Heather stared steadily at the Headmaster. He sat, shock-still, gaping slightly at her declaration. She enjoyed the look on his face. It wasn’t every day she completely one-upped the seemingly-omniscient wizard. She didn’t dare to turn around. She could _feel_ Professor Snape’s searing glare at her back.

“What do you mean, Heather?” Pity, the man had snapped out of his daze already.

“Exactly what I said. Petunia and Vernon abhor us. In turn, they passed their feelings onto their son. Hadrian and I were not welcome at all in that house,” she said idly, as if talking about the weather.

“Surely it is not so serious. A slight discomfort with that which they do not comprehend does not equate hate. Perhaps they simply do not understand your magical abilities,” the Headmaster said placatingly.

Heather glared heatedly at the old man. “Do not attempt to justify their actions to me. You were not the one who had to grow up in such an environment.”

“And what,” Professor Snape asked softly – dangerously, “pray tell, kind of environment do you speak of?”

She clenched her fists. “You mentioned that Hogwarts can track the official dwellings of all students. My Hogwarts letter was addressed to ‘The Cupboard Under the Stairs’. As was Hadrian’s.”

“The… _cupboard_.”

“Yes.”

“That is where you stayed with your brother in that house,” her Head of House clarified.

“Yes.” Then she added, “Dudley has _two_ bedrooms, just to put things in context. Is this a sufficient reason to convince you, Headmaster?”

“I sincerely apologise that your relatives have not treated you as well as I had hoped, but it may be necessary to bear their dislike for the sake of your brother’s safety. The blood wards-”

“No.”

“No?” the elderly wizard repeated.

“No,” she said firmly. “We will not be returning. Under any circumstances. If we ever see them again, it will be too soon.”

“Surely for Hadrian’s sake-”

“DO NOT talk to me about Hadrian. I don’t tell you how to do your job, don’t tell me how to do mine,” she said coldly. “As his guardian, I deem the Dursleys unfit to even _speak_ to him, let alone _live_ with him.”

Seeing that the infernal man wanted to argue, Heather pulled out her last resort. “Remember, Professor Snape, my health results in first year?”

The man nodded. “As I recall, you were in perfect condition except for a substantial weight deficiency.” He stopped short.

“That wasn’t even the worst off I had been. Hadrian and I had begun stealing more food from the Dursleys the weeks leading up to my admittance into Hogwarts. It wasn’t simple neglect; it was abuse.” She just needed to disclose the bare minimum for the Headmaster to retract his stand. They didn’t need to know everything else.

“They withheld food from you two?” Professor Dumbledore said incredulously.

“There is nothing ‘simple’ about neglect, Miss Potter. It is what it is,” the Slytherin Head tried to say gently, though it came across as slightly stilted.

“I believe we have nothing more to discuss, Headmaster, Professor. Be assured that no one takes Hadrian’s safety more seriously than I do.” Heather waited to be dismissed, maintaining _some_ modicum of respect for the old wizard.

As she stood to leave, she thought, ‘They don’t need to know about what _really_ happened with the blood wards.’

~~~

“Albus,” he snarled angrily. Severus paced rapidly around the office, his robes billowing behind him as usual. His thoughts churned as he recalled the recent revelations Heather Lyra had sprung upon them.

“Please take a seat, Severus. Have some tea,” the old coot said in a conciliatory tone.

“Some tea, Albus?” he exclaimed. “Is that all you can offer?” Severus spun to look his employer in the eye. “A safe home, you said. You couldn’t give her that, so your pitiful recompense is _tea?!_ ” He resumed his pacing. If he was occupied, he wouldn’t be able to draw his wand and hex the man.

“Now, Severus, how was I to know that their relatives would treat them so? At the time, the blood wards also offered the siblings the safety they sorely needed.”

“I _told_ you!” he shouted. “I told you that Petunia was a selfish, jealous, _shrew!_ She never made a secret of her hatred of magic, if only because she didn’t have it!”

“But she is Lily’s sister,” Albus said softly.

Severus’ hand twitched towards his wand. Apparently the pacing _couldn’t_ keep him from it. “And she called her a freak for being a witch! I imagine Petunia hasn’t forgotten that descriptor when it comes to her niece and nephew. Did you not think to check on their well-being during their years there?”

“I believed it intrusive on their life. I placed them there partly to separate them from the magical world, after all. Besides, Arabella was living nearby. She has never reported anything odd about their home life.”

“Oh, is that so? Has she or has she not, on more than one occasion, declared her distaste for those disgusting muggles? She has also said that they both stay in the house every day. Don’t muggles send their children to school from age seven, at least?”

“You know what they say about hindsight, Severus. No one could have predicted this outcome,” Albus said reproachfully.

“And yet I had disapproved of sending those two to live with Petunia from the start.” He had. Looking at the two children, the two _magical_ children, he had _known_ that the bitch would hate them. So why had he believed them to be spoilt mirror-images of their father?

Because it had been all too easy. For him to take his unfinished feud with James Potter out on them. For him to ignore those green eyes and cheery smiles. For him to blame them for _her_ death. Yet they were just orphaned children who had never gotten to grow up with their parents. Who had been placed in the care of wholly unsuitable guardians. Who had matured beyond their age to take care of themselves in a world where no one would do so for them.

He had failed them. What use was his promise to protect Lily’s children when he had detested the very idea of them? It was of little comfort that he seemed to have done well by her daughter. Even that had been forced out of him by Heather Lyra’s unyielding determination. _Lily’s_ unyielding determination.

Worse still was that he suspected there was more to the story than withholding food or that damned cupboard. People like Petunia and that beast of a spouse she had wouldn’t have been satisfied with just that. Heather Lyra was skilled at healing magic. She could perhaps perform it even wandless. She wouldn’t have revealed any of this ill treatment unless it was necessary, such as in this scenario.

There was more to this that Heather Lyra was hiding. The consummate Slytherin. For once, Severus cursed the characteristics of his house.


	43. Of Spoilt Brats and Dungeon Bats

Heather quickly found out the drawbacks of revealing what she had to the Headmaster and Professor Snape. In fact, it was during breakfast the very next morning, on the first day of classes, that she noticed the difference. Surrounding her usual place at the Slytherin tables were platters of her favoured breakfast foods. The serving spoons seemed to dole out larger portions than she intended completely of their own volition and the pitchers of juice floating around didn’t move on until her glass was refilled. Chancing a glance at the Headmaster, she looked quickly away. She didn’t do so again. She didn’t think her restraint could handle another pitying stare.

At least Professor Snape seemed outwardly unaffected, though she wasn’t foolish enough to believe the front he put up. No matter the treatment she had had to endure with her Slyth peers, she was _very_ glad to have been a snake. She shuddered at how Professor McGonagall or, Merlin forbid, _Professor Sprout_ would have reacted to such information. Unfortunately, she was well aware that her annual mandatory check-up with Madam Pomfrey was in a week. That was _if_ her Head of House hadn’t moved it up.

She rolled her eyes as the spatula scooped up a serving of treacle tart for her. Beside her, a girl in Rian’s year looked at the utensil oddly. “Are you doing that Heather?” Daphne Greengrass asked curiously.

Heather sighed and wondered how she should respond. She didn’t think ‘Professor Dumbledore is attempting to ease his guilt by attending to my forcibly malnourished form,’ would be appropriate. “Just practising a spell,” she lied.

“Oh, could you teach it to me?” the younger Slytherin requested. Normally, those in her house avoided asking favours from anyone, even housemates. However, Heather had tutored Daphne and her sister, Astoria, in various subjects before. For some reason, many of the younger years, even from other houses, sought her out when she was browsing the library for that very purpose. She almost wished for the times when everyone outright avoided her.

“Sure, tomorrow in the library at four?” If Heather wasn’t mistaken, the twins had detention then. (How they had gotten detention so quickly was beyond her.) The blonde witch nodded in agreement and turned to her friends on her other side, presumedly to inform them of the meeting. Heather would be expecting a veritable mass of Slytherin third years later.

Now she had to go find the _actual_ food-serving charm Headmaster Dumbledore had used.

~~~

“Okay everyone, read up on pages 10 to 20 before your next lesson. I’ll be giving a quiz, so no slacking off,” Professor Lupin announced, to the dread of most of the class. Heather, on the other hand, was pleasantly surprised to have actually _enjoyed_ the lesson. The new DADA Professor was clear in his explanations and proficient with his spells. He was also friendly but firm with his students, so there was little fooling around. Professor Dumbledore might finally have struck gold with this one.

So Heather did what she had never done before – she asked the DADA Professor for help with some questions. Usually, she made do with the resources she could find in the library. Very occasionally, she also asked Professor Snape. However, this Professor was actually competent, for a change, so Heather took advantage.

Professor Lupin was very obliging, answering her questions thoroughly. He still looked completely knackered, albeit not as bad as on the train, so she cut the impromptu meeting short. She _still_ couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew him from somewhere, though.

~~~

“Miss Potter, your appointment with Madam Pomfrey has been changed,” Professor Snape said as she was packing up her cauldron at the end of the lesson. Oh, she had totally called it.

Nodding resignedly, she asked, “When is it?”

“Right now.”

She didn’t bother to argue – the man definitely knew she had a free block right then. Making her way to the infirmary, she was only mildly surprised by her skulking shadow. “You are to accompany me then, Professor? I haven’t actually _seen_ the Dursleys in over a year now.”

“Merely protocol. I have much better things to do with my time than hold my students’ hands as they stutter through a physical examination.”

She snorted softly. Oh, Heather didn’t doubt that it was in the protocol, simply the degree of her Head of House’s disinterest.

“Troublesome, that,” she commented lightly.

When she pushed the doors to the hospital wing open, the school matron looked her up and down critically. Heather sighed; the Headmaster sure worked fast. What was next; the teachers discussing her and Hadrian at the next staff meeting?

“Heather,” Madam Pomfrey said disapprovingly, “what did I tell you about withholding pertinent information from your healer?”

“That it is unsafe and should not be done,” she parroted dutifully. What? The Medimagic lessons hadn’t just comprised learning spells. A lot of ethics and codes of conduct came into play too.

The Mediwitch gave a mild warning look and pointed to a bed. “Now, give me a brief overview of your medical history. Professor Snape can leave if you wish it.” The Professor in question made to argue but a quelling look from Madam Pomfrey made him back down with a mutinous glare. ‘Interesting,’ Heather thought, privately amused.

“He doesn’t have to leave because I have none to speak of,” she said honestly. Medical history implied records and the Dursleys had never paid for them to see a professional. All their injuries had been self-healed.

“Heather,” she said gently, “you don’t have to conceal anything. If you have any lingering wounds, it is best to have them looked at or complications could arise.”

Heather lifted her chin stubbornly. “Then do a check; use a Level 10 diagnostic. I give my permission for it. You won’t find anything.”

Severus narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the girl’s declaration. ‘You won’t find anything’, not ‘There’s nothing to find’. Already, that was telling. But how would her supposed injuries remain hidden against a diagnostic spell so thorough that Healers required explicit permission from their patients to use it?

He watched closely as Poppy cast the spell. Heather Lyra sat calmly, not moving at all as the light washed over her. A scroll appeared, detailing every single wound she had sustained since birth. Down to the last scraped knee or papercut. Any damage to the body was always recorded somehow. Even if it appeared completely healed, it never failed to leave the faintest indication.

Poppy hummed in confusion and handed the scroll to him after asking the girl’s permission. Severus scanned the list carefully. No aberrations at all. Not a single fracture – even hairline ones – or broken bone. Serious bumps and bruises from age three to five, but they didn’t imply anything more than rough-housing – as children were wont to. The list did not include any indications of the degree of abuse he expected. Precisely that – the list did not _include_. He scrutinised the section under ‘Age Eleven’. Sure enough, no mention of shallow cuts on her face from the disastrous confrontation they had had. He looked at ‘Age Fourteen’ and could not find an entry on fingernail gouges on her palms either. He distinctly remembered the conversation they had had regarding Quirrell. Those were injuries he was _certain_ she had sustained. He had witnessed them, after all.

He pinned Heather Lyra with a penetrating stare as Poppy prepared a nutrient potion for her. That had been the only thing the scans found. Convenient that lack of food was the only thing she had disclosed to Albus. The girl studiously avoided his gaze and focussed on the concerned matron. Somehow, she was hiding her injuries from the scan. Or was it simply that her peculiar healing magic erased all trace of injury from her body?

“Miss Potter-”

“Oh, the pain!” a tinny voice exclaimed as the door was pushed open. Rubeus stomped frantically into the room, carrying the small-in-comparison Draco in his arms. A comical sight at any other time, now it only served as a distraction from the interrogation he wanted to force on Heather Lyra.

Blast it all! He directed his attention to the overreacting boy, reluctantly letting the girl leave with her potions. It would have to wait for another day.

~~~

Heather darted out of the infirmary, nutritive in hand. She heaved a sigh of relief. She’d escaped narrowly this time, but it was only a postponement of the inevitable. Professor Snape could easily question her during their next Wednesday lesson, or even after class one day if he couldn’t wait a week. He obviously wasn’t fooled, though he had at least kept it to himself.

Maybe she’d ask Fred and George for help. They were masters of evasion. They had CoMC together, which was the next class. She picked up her pace towards Professor Hagrid’s hut. He’d gotten the position this year after Professor Kettleburn retired. She didn’t know how the gamekeeper would fare in his new role, but Hadrian seemed really excited about it. Though from the accident that had happened to Draco Malfoy already, it didn’t bolster her confidence much. Of course, the Malfoy heir wasn’t exactly fond of the half-giant, so he could have made trouble on purpose.

She joined her twin friends in the group gathered around the messy lodgings of their Professor. “Hey guys.”

“Heather! Where have you been?”

“We had free period, didn’t we?”

Heather grimaced. “Remember I told you guys about my conversation with the Headmaster?” They nodded. “Professor Snape moved my check-up to today.”

“Did our-”

“-plan work?”

“Everything went as expected. Means you guys did the spells correctly,” she said proudly. Diagnostic spells couldn’t be performed on oneself, so she’d had her friends learn how to cast it. Heather had needed to be sure that the spells wouldn’t give away all the injuries she’d healed wandlessly. “But Professor Snape still isn’t convinced.”

“Well, there isn’t much-”

“-he can do if you never admit anything.”

“After all, he-”

“-has no proof.”

That was true. Professor Snape could suspect and speculate all he liked. Short of dousing her with Veritaserum or reading her mind _,_ he couldn’t confirm anything.

“We want to ask, though-”

“-why _don’t_ you want to tell him?” They looked at her curiously.

“We mean, yeah, he’s the Greasy Git-” they winced at the glare she gave.

“-but haven’t you always trusted him?”

Heather opened her mouth to retort, but closed it again. Because…because… She couldn’t actually think of a legitimate reason. With everyone else, it was because she and Rian didn’t want or need the pity. Look at Professor Dumbledore. He didn’t even know the half of it and he already pitied her. Professor Snape though… Pity wasn’t in his vocabulary. Him, she trusted not to look down on her past.

“You think I should tell him?” she asked hesitantly.

George and Fred looked at each other. “If you feel comfortable with it.” They shrugged.

“Can’t deny he’s looked-”

“-out for you and Hadrian.”

“Even if he’s a gi– we mean, not very nice to us Gryffs.”

She sighed. She was just so used to keeping all these things from others. Only the Weasleys knew anything, though only certain parts. Mrs Weasley would likely be sent to Azkaban for murder if Heather told her the whole story. She could barely keep Fred and George from doing the same.

“Hey, where’s Professor Hagrid? Class started a half hour ago.” She looked around the courtyard for the distinctively hulking form.

“Just Hagrid,” Fred reminded.

“Didn’t you hear? Something happened in the firsties’ lesson,” George said

Heather tilted her head. “You mean with Malfoy? Hagrid brought him to the hospital wing. It’s how I got away.”

“Well, Hagrid brought a hippogriff to class today-” Fred started.

“-Brilliant idea, that!” George cut in excitedly.

“-and Malfoy insulted it so-”

Heather winced. “-the hippogriff attacked him,” she concluded. The proud creatures were not to be trifled with.

They nodded, grinning. “Yup, little ponce had it coming.”

“We’d probably have heard his whiny screams-”

“-all the way in the Den if it wasn’t-”

“-for the sound-dampening charms-”

“-in the castle.”

Frowning thoughtfully, she commented, “His wounds weren’t _that_ severe.” She tried to recall what she’d seen, “A light slash in his forearm at most.”

Fred rolled his eyes. “Wimpy little brat can’t handle a little scratch.”

Eyeing his own multitude of scars from childhood experiments, George said, “The prima donna. Quidditch is probably the hardest work he’s done.”

“Not everyone can handle a third-degree burn like it’s a minor scald,” Heather said wryly. Fortunately, most of their accidents now took place in the Den while she was present. Those burns would have scarred their faces quite visibly without her wandless healing. Even if they hadn’t thought it a big deal. Crazily high pain tolerances, they had.

“Like we said – whiny.”


	44. Confessions

It turned out that Professor Snape _had_ been patient enough to wait a week before demanding answers. Heather had briefly contemplated the idea of simply not turning up that Wednesday, but that felt too much like running away. She wasn’t a coward.

Which was how she found herself sitting opposite the stern wizard as he bore holes into her with his gaze. He hadn’t said anything beyond ‘Enter’. He was looking deeply into her eyes, seeming to search for something. Oddly enough, her thoughts kept trying to drift towards her dismal upbringing. She pushed the memories away firmly and focussed on the present.

Narrowing his eyes shrewdly, the Professor snapped out of the staring contest he’d initiated. She wondered what he’d gleaned from that.

Severus Snape could not help attempting a silent _Legilimens_ on the stubborn girl. It was a weaker one, given that she had hardly any mental defences. He had expected to cut through her mind like a hot knife through butter – and he had. It was when looking through her memories that he had encountered a problem. Nudging her subconscious to bring up thoughts of her childhood should have been simple for an untrained mind. Naturally, he was thus shocked by the resistance he met in the form of her sheer focus. It was plain to see that Heather Lyra was untrained in Mindmagic. However, to be able to resist an attack from a proficient Legilimens, even one not at full power, spoke of a strong mind indeed. Or, perhaps, an inordinately obstinate one.

“You and I both know that the little act you have is merely that – an act. I shall not waste our time by asking questions. Explain.”

The girl drew her shoulders slightly inward in an attempt to shield herself. She was highly uncomfortable with this conversation. Good, so was he. Her lips firmed and he thought he would have to attempt to persuade her. Then she spoke.

He listened carefully as she told him, not everything, but more about growing up with her relatives. She spoke of cold nights in a cupboard and aching hunger. Of physical and emotional beatings. When she was done, she heaved a large sigh, almost seeming to deflate with her exhalation. But then she straightened her spine and looked right into his eyes. There was no victim in that gaze, no weak child. Instead, she looked proud of herself. As she rightly should.

It was then that Severus realised that he had no real need to know all this. The standing reason for wanting to investigate further had been to ensure the girl and boy received the proper aftercare needed for such situations. Clearly, that was unnecessary. The girl and boy had both emerged as mostly healthy and well-adjusted individuals. Heather Lyra, independent as she was, had rescued herself and her brother from their distasteful circumstances all the while maintaining a wholesome state of mind. It was little wonder that they had hidden all of this when experience told them that adults were untrustworthy. Why accept help from adults when none had provided aid when truly needed? Unfortunately, he was well-acquainted with their frame of mind.

“Do you wish for the Dursleys to be apprehended?” he asked, as per procedure. Whichever answer she gave, Severus would see to it personally that they got what they deserved. Not only for Lily, but for Heather Lyra and her brother as well.

As expected, the girl shook her head decisively. “We no longer have anything to do with them. Not since summer of last year.” Her green eyes darkened dangerously, and Severus knew there was context hidden there that he was not privy to. “It is enough.”

“As you deem fit,” he said placidly. If not imprisonment in Azkaban, there were various other means to punish them. “We will be brewing Wolfsbane next week,” he commented offhandedly, then returned to his marking.

He sensed the girl stare at him quietly before leaving with a soft click of the door.

His occlumency barriers finally broke and his fury rushed forth in torrents. Striding quickly to a warded door in the corner, he nearly broke it down in his rage before locking it tight behind him. Launching violent curses around the training room, he imagined the practice mannequins were the disgusting creatures that called themselves human.  An Entrail-Expelling curse for the man. Another Blood-Boiling curse for the boy. And several _Sectumsempra_ specially for that unworthy sister of Lily’s.

It would be a long while before he left the room.

~~~

Heather slumped against the closed oak door. Closing her eyes, she breathed rhythmically. In, out… In, out…

_‘Cease your wool-gathering and comport yourself! You call yourself a Slytherin?’_ her inner Prince’s annoyed voice said. Come to think of it, he sounded quite like Professor Snape.

She smiled wryly and collected herself. Slytherins passed their Head of House’s office frequently and she didn’t want any of her year mates catching her in this state. They would pounce on her weakness like sharks scenting blood. Tolerant of her they may be, they were still wary of her seemingly Gryffindoric inclinations. She could really only count some of the younger snakes as friends and even that was borne only of her willingness to tutor them.

Schooling her expression into neutrality, she walked towards the dorms. Internally, however, her mind was churning worriedly. She’d gone and told the Professor. Nothing too detailed, but more than she’d ever told anyone – Fred and George aside. She’d been even _more_ anxious about telling him than the twins.

A part of her had felt almost inferior about admitting to the-the _abuse_. (There, she’d said it.) It was like showcasing her weakness to the powerful wizard. Professor Snape was just so… _formidable_. Like none could touch him. Her worries had been incessant. Would he decide she wasn’t worth his time and effort? Would he sneer at her like he did at the incompetent – _spineless_ – DADA Professors?

But he hadn’t. He’d treated her normally, even. He hadn’t trivialised it, no. His sincerity when offering the arrest of the Dursleys as a possible recourse was perceivable. He had, however, not allowed the revelation to change his treatment of her. He hadn’t dealt with her like she was made of glass. Nor had he looked down at her. Instead, he had accepted the information and then arranged for their next meeting. There _would_ be a next meeting.

In a way, that had been more liberating than Mrs Weasley’s constant coddling. Like with her Prince, Professor Snape made her feel like her terrible upbringing did _not_ define her as a person. It was simply an experience she’d had to go through, not who she was.

Lost in her thoughts, Heather missed the looks she got due to the blinding smile she sported.

~~~

“-and then the crazy bat says that I’ve got a Grim in my cup!” Hadrian said, waving his hands frantically. “Now even _Ron’s_ paranoid that I’ll face imminent demise.”

Heather frowned in exasperation. “Professor Trelawney does that every time! In my year, it was Alicia Spinnet – said she had a Scythe. Spinnet’s as hale and hearty as ever. That woman’s Spiritual Eye is fogged up from all that incense she uses!”

“Yeah, that’s what Professor McGonagall said,” he said, nodded. “I don’t believe it, and neither does Hermione. Can you believe she’s actually thinking of _dropping_ the class?”

Heather smiled in amusement. That even the most studious girl in the school took issue to the Professor said a _lot_. “She’s taking all the classes, right? She can more than afford to have one less.”

“I don’t know how Hermione is coping with all this.” Hadrian shook his head in confusion. “Most of her elective classes overlap! I only have three electives and my schedule’s packed to the brim!” Rian was taking Ancient Runes, Divination and CoMC. The same as Heather, excepting Arithmancy. He _hated_ math.

“Maybe she’s doing self-study in some classes. Like I am for Ancient Runes and Divinations.” Heather’s own schedule would be too full otherwise. Since she was so ahead of Runes anyway, Professor Bathsheda had allowed her to do so as long as she handed in her work. Professor Trelawney likely hadn’t even noticed her absence in class. Heather could perform the occasional scrying, but most other predictive methods were beyond her. She wasn’t much of a Seer. She would probably drop the class soon. “Anyway, how about your other classes? Heard about Malfoy’s accident the other day.”

Rian chuckled at the memory. “Yeah, he was probably jealous that I got to ride on Buckbeak – the hippogriff.”

“Really? How was it?” Heather asked animatedly. They both shared a love for flying.

“Amazing,” he enthused. “It was different from being on a broom and I had less control, but Buckbeak few so much faster than my Nimbus! He’s probably even faster than that new Firebolt.”

“I wish Hagrid had been our Professor when we learnt about hippogriffs! Speaking of which, how did you find Professor Lupin?”

“ _Much_ better than the previous two. Though they’re not hard to beat, are they? One thing though: when Professor Lupin let us try to fight off a boggart, he didn’t even let me confront it!” Hadrian said indignantly. “Does he think I’m not up to it? It must be because he saw me pass out on the train!”

Heather tried to soothe her brother’s ruffled feathers. “Rian, I’m sure the Professor didn’t mean that. Think about it, what would he think your greatest fear is?”

He looked confused.

Sighing, she said, “Voldemort. He thinks your boggart will turn into Voldemort.” And a good guess it was, too. “ _That_ would have caused lots of panic.”

Hadrian frowned pensively. “Actually, I was thinking more of a dementor.”

Heather stiffened. She remembered his last encounter with one of those dark creatures. “A dementor?”

He nodded. “It was like I couldn’t control my body. All I could hear was a woman screaming in anguish.” He paused. Heather felt a sense of dread. “And I could see green light.”

“Green light…” she whispered in horror.

“What is it Heather?” her brother asked worriedly.

“You remember?” she said desperately.

“Remember what, Heather? Who was that screaming? And the green-” he cut himself off. Realisation dawned and his face screwed up in grief.

“…Mama,” he said in a tiny voice.

Heather nodded tightly. “You were in the room when Voldemort attacked. Mama had hidden me in the wardrobe earlier. I suppose it had been too much to ask for you to have been asleep.”

Taking some time to absorb the information, he finally questioned softly, “That’s what all your nightmares are about?”

She startled. “You know about them?”

He gave her a reproving look. “Give me more credit than that. We slept in the same cot for eight years!”

“You never let on,” she said sheepishly.

“I sensed that you wanted to keep it from me.”

“I did.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you didn’t need to know. I never expected you to have memories of it. You were so young.” _Too young._ “And how would I have told you?” How _did_ you tell your brother about witnessing their mother’s murder?

Wordlessly, Hadrian wrapped his arms around her and held on. After his shaking had finally subsided, Heather said, “I’ll teach you the Patronus charm.”

“Isn’t that really advanced?” he said wetly, “Like apprentice-level hard?”

Whispering deviously, she said, “I learnt it in third year.”

Hadrian chuckled weakly, glad for the subject change. “Well, I happen to know a third year.”


	45. A Grim Series of Events

Heather sat comfortably against a large rock at the edge of the Black Lake. She was so close to the water’s edge that if she stretched out her admittedly short legs, her shoes would get wet. Considering that she couldn’t swim, it was odd how at ease she was.

It was a rare day that she preferred the outdoors to the Den, but Gryffindor was having Quidditch practice, which meant that FredGeorge and Rian were occupied. Wood had banned her from watching the training because he worried about her relaying Gryffindor’s game strategies to Slytherin, so Heather found herself lounging by the lake.

She was currently reading (wasn’t she always?) one of her well-worn Prince’s books. They had become more of pleasure than reference reading by now. She just _knew_ what Fred and George would say if they found these books. It was a challenge getting them to even open one, let alone read for enjoyment. That was not to say that they didn’t do any work. The numerous projects all three of them were working on for the joke shop required in-depth understanding of magical theory. The rare times Heather actually got them to do any homework, they got at least Es, to the disbelief of the Professors. It was actually how they hadn’t been kicked out of their classes yet.

A flicker of movement in her peripheral vision made her look up warily. Scanning her surroundings, she watched out for danger. This close to the Forbidden Forest, some of its inhabitants occasionally appeared. A black creature at the edge of the treeline caught her attention. As she peered closer, she relaxed.

A large, shaggy dog that had probably seen better days was trotting cautiously towards the lake. It was likely looking for some water. It looked famished, just skin and bones. Heather knew that there were wild dogs roaming the forest, though she wondered why this one had strayed from its pack.

A pang of sympathy hit her; she knew what it was like to go hungry. Standing up, she approached the jittery animal slowly. The dog noticed her arrival and perked to attention. It didn’t seem aggressive. On the contrary, it looked eager instead. Perhaps Hagrid took care of it occasionally, so it wasn’t scared of humans.

“Hello there, big guy.” It truly was a huge dog. Not quite the size of the wolf, but close. She held her hand out for it to sniff. The dog enthusiastically slobbered all over it instead, its tail wagging happily. “Someone’s happy today,” she said, chuckling. It barked in agreement.

“Are you hungry?” She drew the conclusion from the loud whines she got in reply. “Alright, alright. I’ve got some sandw-” Before she could finish, the dog bowled her over in its excitement, licking her face messily.

She quickly, but gently, pushed it off and unwrapped the food before a repeat occurred. Casting a cleaning charm, she said, “Calm down! Here, help yourself.”

It pounced on the offerings, gobbling away like it hadn’t seen food in weeks. It likely hadn’t. She carded a hand through the matted fur and it came back filthy. What had this dog been through? “Hold still there, fella, I’m just going to clean you up a bit,” she said soothingly. Casting a milder cleansing spell that was animal-friendly, she was glad to see some shine return to the inky pelt.

“There, now don’t you look handsome.” To her entertainment, the canine _preened_ at her words. Laughing she added, “And vain, too.” It just snuffed at her.

“Snuffles!” she said abruptly. He tilted his head and made a questioning noise. She didn’t know how a dog could convey that. “I’ll call you Snuffles. Do you like that?” He gave an approving bark.

Just then, his hackled rose and he growled menacingly. Surprised, Heather turned around and saw her Head of House walking towards them from the forest. He held a large basket, probably for the materials he had gathered. She tried to calm Snuffles, who was still posed hostilely.

“Miss Potter, I was not aware you owned a,” he paused, “ _dog._ ” Heather somehow knew he meant mutt.

“Hello Professor Snape. He’s not mine, I found him just now near the forest.” Snuffles had subsided to just glaring at the wizard now.

“It does not appear friendly. Surely you have not trained it so quickly?” he said snidely.

Heather hid a smile. “Of course not. Have you perchance any _Ruta graveolens_ in that basket?” The common rue had a scent rather offensive to dogs. Petunia had insisted on some to keep animals away from her precious garden.

The Professor raised a brow. “No, but I do have some _Coleus_ _canina_. I believe, however, that the scent _repels_ dogs, not angers them. Nevertheless, I shall not linger to find out. Would not want your dog on the wrong end of my wand if it lunges.” Professor Snape then left, sneering at Snuffles who eagerly returned the sentiment. Not a dog person, then.

“Snuffles,” she said chidingly. “That was very rude.” He whined and bared his teeth at the Professor’s back.

“I know he looks scary, but he means no harm.” He snarled viciously. “Snuffles! Be nice! Professor Snape has helped me out a whole lot. If it wasn’t for him, my brother, Hadrian, would be injured more often than he usually is!”

Snuffles lowered his body flat against the ground and bent his ears back. He seemed to be pouting. Heather sighed in exasperation.

~~~

Since meeting Snuffles, Heather continued to visit him occasionally to feed him. Sometimes GredForge (if they weren’t having detention) or Hadrian and his friends tagged along. Snuffles seemed to like it best when it was just her and Rian around. It was obvious; he would prance around excitedly whenever he saw them walking towards him.

It was now once again Hallowe’en and Heather had opted to skip this year’s feast, much to the twins’ consternation. She didn’t really get why they were put out; it’s not like she could sit with them. Instead, she had gotten a quick dinner at the kitchens before heading for the Den. Rather than party on her parents’ death anniversary, there were some new runic potions she wanted to try brewing.

Professor Snape had helped her make a huge breakthrough in her research. She’d been stuck when trying out multiple runes in a single potion. Her Blister Cure had exploded violently when she had tried to add the runes for healing and vitality. She had been confused because the Skelegro had worked fine with the same combination, so she knew it wasn’t a matter of incompatible runes. It had been the Professor who had solved her conundrum.

He had hypothesised that the complexity of the potion was proportionate to the number of runes that could be incorporated. Since Skelegro was significantly more complicated than Blister Cure, it could hold more magic in the form of runes. They had tested it out and found that the results supported the theory. Of course, it was difficult to predict the actual number of runes that a particular potion could withstand without actually trying it out. She was currently developing a matrix to calculate the Snape Index for Potions – or Sn.I.P., as she had personally coined it.

Which was why she needed to brew many more runic potions to build a large database to base her calculations on. She was suddenly glad for continuing with Arithmancy despite her busy schedule.

Heather neatly labelled her filled phials with the name of the potion and the runes used. Casting a _Tempus_ , she was surprised at the late hour. Curfew was only half an hour away! She had really lost track of time.

She quickly stowed away her materials and headed towards the dungeons. On her way there, someone behind her grabbed her arm tightly. On high alert, her instincts reacted before her mind could and she wandlessly blasted the stranger away from her. She’d learnt her lesson from the last time this had happened. She pivoted to look at the assailant and thankfully stopped herself before she could further her attack.

Once rational thought caught up to her, she berated herself for being careless. Standing in front of her wasn’t a vicious enemy, but Professor Snape himself. Oh no! She had performed wandless magic.

The Professor appeared stunned but quickly regained his composure. “Miss Potter! Where have you been, you foolish girl! All the students are gathered in the Great Hall because of an attack in the Gryffindor common room! I will escort you there immediately.”

Heather rushed to keep up with the man’s long strides. “Attack?! Has anyone been injured?” _Has_ _Hadrian been?_

“Your brother is unharmed. The attack occurred during the feast. Which you were not present for,” he said furiously.

“There are no rules that mandate a student’s presence during celebrations,” Heather hedged.

“And you did not believe it prudent to inform someone of your whereabouts despite the unhinged danger on the loose?”

“You mean Sirius Black? _He_ attacked the common room? _Why_?” What did the wizard want? How had he even infiltrated Hogwarts in the first place?

 Professor Snape tightened his lips and glowered fiercely ahead. “The man is a follower of the Dark Lord.”

Heather nearly missed a step. The Professor jerked a hand out as if to steady her but stopped himself at the last minute. “He’s after Hadrian?” she whispered, aghast.

“One would presume so.” The man hesitated. “I will tell you this only to prepare you. The man may use this information to lower your guard, but he is your godfather.”

This time, Heather _did_ stumble. Thanking Professor Snape for preventing her fall, she digested his words. _Godfather_? Oh god, what had Papa and Mama been thinking? She asked her question aloud.

“Black was your father’s,” he sneered, “best friend. One of them. Lupin and Pettigrew were two others. Black betrayed your parents’ trust and revealed their location to his master.”

Heather’s attention caught at something else though. “Wait, _Lupin_? Professor Lupin?”

He grunted irascibly. “Yes, yes. They were bosom buddies once upon a time.” Right, the group had probably tormented Professor Snape during their Hogwarts years. Well, that was why Professor Lupin had seemed familiar.

“So what happened?”

The Potions Master growled in frustration and told her the situation about the _Fidelius_ , Black’s deception and Pettigrew’s murder.

~~~

Rian had been understandably appalled when Heather told him the story. Then he’d grown incensed. “How could Black have sold out his best friend like that?”

She shrugged helplessly. “Why does _anyone_ do bad things? We don’t know.”

“Say,” he said slyly. Heather dreaded the tone. “If Black’s in Hogwarts, won’t the map show his location?”

Blinking, she pondered his words. It made sense. It showed where _everyone_ was in the castle grounds. Even the ghosts and people under disillusionment. “But he might not be on the grounds right now. He could be hiding in Hogsmeade or deep in the Forbidden Forest.”

“It can’t hurt to try! And he’ll come back eventually.”

Heather sighed and gave in. As long as Rian didn’t go after the murderer himself. They opened the map (Hadrian always had it on him, apparently) and scrutinised the blinking dots.

Heather searched the Gryffindor common room, though she doubted that the wanted fugitive would be back so soon at the scene of the crime. Still, they had to be thorough. Scanning the area carefully, her blood ran cold.

The flashing dot perched right next to Ronald Weasley clearly stated _Peter Pettigrew_.

~~~

Storming into the Lions’ Den, Heather paid no heed to Percy’s outraged protests at her presence and headed straight for Ron. She was shocked that he was sitting alone when the map clearly stated that Pettigrew was there. She checked the parchment again. Yep. The man was so close that the dot was practically superposed on Ron’s. On Ron…

Her mind worked furiously as Ron quailed under her unintentional glare. Scabbers. He was more than a decade old. Anguis and Crookshanks _hated_ him.

_‘Anguis absolutely abhors Scabbers. Says he’s not normal.’_

“Accio Scabbers!” The rat flew directly into her hand as Ron watched on, shocked into compliance. She quickly conjured a glass box with tiny air holes and charmed it unbreakable to cage the rat in.

Before the redhead could recover, she strode out of the room to look for the nearest teacher. She heard her brother stumble after her, also confused by her abrupt rat-napping. Just around the corner, Professor McGonagall appeared. Perfect.

“Professor! Please, may I see you in your office right now?”

The cat animagus furrowed her brows. “Of course, right this way.”

Once away from prying eyes, Heather produced the cage with the clearly panicked rat. “Professor, could you please perform the animagus reversal spell on this rat? I suspect he is a wanted criminal.” She looked meaningfully at her brother. The Professor’s eyes widened and she stared at the rodent with a hard gaze. Heather _may_ have wrongly implied the rat was Black, but that was the quickest way.

The Transfiguration Mistress waved her wand and incanted, “ _Animagum Reversio_!”

Heather quickly banished the glass box as the rat shifted and enlarged. A pudgy and timid-looking man lay sprawled on the floor. He tried to escape, but a timely stunner from the Professor halted his progress.

“Peter?!” Professor McGonagall exclaimed. “I thought you were dead!” The elder witch made a move to free him, but Heather stopped her.

“Wait! Isn’t it suspicious that this man has been posing as the Weasleys’ pet rat for over a decade? There is more to this story than meets the eye.” Heather glared suspiciously at the incapacitated wizard. Her gut told her not to trust him. Anguis’ angry hiss at the wizard from inside Rian’s sleeve cemented her decision.

The Professor hesitated. It was clear she didn’t believe the man was up to anything.

“Perhaps the Headmaster would like to know about this?” Heather prompted. The Professor was probably torn since Pettigrew was her ex-student. One she had believed to be brutally murdered, no less.

Professor McGonagall nodded stiffly. “Yes, of course. Wait right here.” She went to the fireplace in the corner to firecall Professor Dumbledore.

Heather cast a reinforced _Incarcerous_ just in case. At this point, Hadrian had finally caught up to the current proceedings and was staring at the man in distrust.

“Knew there was a reason Anguis hated him,” he muttered. His familiar hissed in agreement.

_{Yesss, dear. You were right all along,}_ he hissed soothingly to the indignant snake. Apparently, she had taken Ron’s scoldings personally.

Headmaster Dumbledore chose that moment to step through the floo. “Now Minerva, what was it you were saying about Peter?” He looked over at the two siblings and the captive wizard sprawled across the floor. “Oh my,” he said, frowning.

“You see the problem, Headmaster? He has been masquerading as the Weasleys’ rat. I didn’t even know he was an animagus!” Professor McGonagall said worriedly.

The Headmaster focussed on the wizard in question and rennervated him. Pettigrew’s panic grew as he blinked into awareness. “H-headmaster! I-I was j-just-”

“Peter, you had us all believe you were dead!” Professor McGonagall said.

“Yes, Peter,” the Headmaster said calmly, “Why did you not seek anyone out after Sirius’ attack if you were alive?”

Pettigrew’s eyes widened and he sputtered nervously, “S-sirius! I-I was hiding! H-he was after me!”

“My dear boy, Sirius was locked up in Azkaban. Only recently has he escaped. There was no reason for you to have disguised yourself for so long.”

The plump wizard’s eyes darted around nervously. “P-please, I was just scared. S-see, Sirius managed to get out! It’s because he’s an animagus too! A black dog!”

Heather’s ears perked at that. A black dog! Was Snuffles… But he had had plenty of opportunity to hurt her and Rian while they were alone. If Black was really Snuffles, they would surely have been attacked long ago. “There’s something he’s not telling us,” Heather said firmly.

Professor Dumbledore hummed curiously. “Peter, please tell us what happened that night. Why did Sirius go after you and why are you so afraid of him?”

The man struggled uselessly in his binds. “H-he, he-” He seemed at a loss for words. “Sirius is a dark wizard!” Pettigrew said rapidly. “He had no need for a reason!”

The elderly Headmaster frowned lightly at the evasion. He turned to Professor McGonagall and whispered something Heather couldn’t hear. The witch then walked to the fireplace again. A while later, another figure appeared in the room.

It was Professor Snape, carrying a phial of clear liquid.


	46. Proof

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Thanks so much for continuing with this fic and all the awesome comments! I'm really sorry, but I'll have to slow down the updates after this one (maybe every fortnight?). School's been getting busier lately, so not much time to write. Rest assured, though, I won't be dropping this fic! Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter!

“What is your name?”

“Peter Pettigrew,” the trussed-up wizard said tonelessly.

“Date of birth?”

“5 May, 1960.”

Professor Snape nodded at the Headmaster. “The Veritaserum is in effect.”

“Thank you Severus.” Addressing Pettigrew again, the Headmaster said, “What happened on 31 October 1981 with regard to Voldemort’s attack on the Potters?”

Dazedly, the man began his tale. “After I told my lord about the Potter’s location-” Gasps were heard around the room. Professor Dumbledore made a silencing motion to hear the rest of the story. Eventually, Pettigrew grew quiet and ended his speech.

“You were the Potters’ Secret Keeper, not Sirius Black.” Even though it wasn’t framed in the form of a question, the man answered affirmatively.

“You framed Sirius Black, who was, in fact, innocent?” Another ‘yes’.

Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall seemed to deflate while Professor Snape grimaced heavily. Heather was in a similar state of mind. Wrongfully imprisoned in Azkaban for twelve years. With all those dementors roaming about. How had the man coped enough to escape? No wonder Snuffles had been so emaciated.

Occupied with their thoughts as they were, they failed to realise when Pettigrew’s expression cleared. Quick as a snitch, the man shifted to rat form again and scurried out through the cracks before any of them could react. Professor Snape cursed, and not the spell kind.

“Hurry, we may still catch him!” The three Professors sprang into action and rushed out the door. Hadrian himself unfolded the Marauder’s Map to locate the little cretin. The dot was scurrying towards the hidden entrance at the One-Eyed Witch that led to Honeydukes. For a tiny rodent, it sure moved fast. Heather knew that they wouldn’t be able to catch up to the damn thing. They also wouldn’t be able to track it once it left Hogwarts.

Sighing in frustration, Heather searched the map for another name. Sirius Black wasn’t in the school either. He must have retreated after that attempt on Hallowe’en night. “Snuffles isn’t around either.”

Hadrian looked grim. “So it really is him?”

She nodded. “I believe so.”

“Explains why Snuffles was so happy to see us all the time,” he said wistfully, “Our godfather…”

If Sirius Black hadn’t been arrested, _he_ could have been the one to raise them. They wouldn’t have been sent to Privet Drive. Or perhaps they still would have. By virtue of the _blood wards_. She sneered inwardly at the thought.

Shaking off her heavy thoughts, she said hopefully, “When we see him next, we’ll get to tell him that Pettigrew confessed!”

“But he escaped,” Rian said mournfully, “We can’t prove Snuffles’ innocence!”

“We’ll think of something,” Heather said comfortingly.

~~~

In the end, Pettigrew had escaped despite the Professors’ best efforts. Try as they might, Heather and Hadrian likewise couldn’t find Snuffles in the days to come. He had truly backed off after his botched infiltration into the Gryffindor common room. The weather seemed to darken to match their moods. All of them (Heather, Hadrian, Ron, Hermione, Fred and George) took turns to scrutinise the map for signs of the wayward fugitive.

It had occurred to Heather a few days later to inform Professor Lupin of all this, but he had taken ill recently. Professor Snape had taken over the DADA classes, being inordinately focussed on werewolves even though that was taught in third year.

The week passed quickly and the first Quidditch match of the year approached. Heather felt anxious and worried due to the bad track record Rian had with first matches, and this was compounded by the awful weather conditions he would have to play in. She snorted in disgust as she glanced at Draco Malfoy. The little menace had backed out of the game, pleading his injury from Buckbeak. The wound had long since healed, but Madam Hooch had had to acquiesce and make the Gryffs play the Puffs instead.

The rain poured down in torrents and both players and audience were immediately soaked. Why the school hadn’t postponed the match was anyone’s guess. This was an accident waiting to happen. Heather quickly set a large umbrella charm around her area and dried herself off. Her neighbours gave her thankful looks and followed her example. She held in a scoff. Illogical wizards.

Visibility was at an all-time low and she struggled to locate her brother. He was circling the pitch, having not spotted the golden snitch yet. It would take a miracle in these conditions. The lions were ahead by only 50 points, so Rian had to catch the snitch for his team to win.

Suddenly, Hadrian sped off in one direction. Heather recognised the move as a genuine pass for the snitch. There was a rare lack of distracting manoeuvres; it seemed he was eager to end the match too.

Then, Rian wobbled on his broom and made an abrupt stop. Heather stood to get a closer look, ignoring the protest of the student behind her. Her brother had never done this before. A new feint? He looked visibly distressed now as his head tilted downwards. Heather followed his gaze to the ground.

Dementors. A whole hoard of them, closing in on her brother rapidly. Instinctively, she raised her laurel wand and channelled as much energy as she could. _“Expecto Patronum!”_ She didn’t notice the stupefied looks of the people around her, having eyes only for her brother. In a burst of blinding white light, her guardian was conjured from the tip of her wand.

A tiny speck of a thing, her misty snidget shot straight for the cloaked creatures.

It was a sight to behold. The minuscule bird chased off the mass of shadows. The dementors fled quickly and dispersed. Her energetic little snidget circled Hadrian once, twice, as if to ascertain his safety, before dissipating. Relaxing slightly now that the danger was averted, Heather retook her seat. The game had been in play during the episode. Surprisingly, no one had noticed the dementors until she had cast the spell. As such, Cedric had caught the snitch while Rian was distracted.

She didn’t care that the Puffs won. She was just glad that her brother got off uninjured for once. The Patronus lessons suddenly seemed much more urgent now if her brother just froze up like that in a dementor’s presence.

Heather hurried down to the pitch where the Gryffindor team was gathered. A confrontation seemed to be developing between the Puffs and Gryffs.

Her brother stood at the edge of the group, looking concerned by the escalating argument.

“Rian! Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Thanks to you. Great Patronus by the way – I guess size really doesn’t matter, huh.”

George popped up on her right. “Yeah, Heather-harp.”

Fred appeared on her left. “We’ll never tease you about your snidge-midget again.”

Heather rolled her eyes. “Want to learn the Patronus _now_?”

“Totally.”

“Err, hey.” Another voice chimed in. They looked at the Hufflepuff seeker who was standing there sheepishly.

Hadrian put his hand out. “Good game.”

Cedric grimaced but shook his hand. “ _You_ played a good game. I’m sorry I didn’t notice your struggle out there. I was too focussed on the snitch.”

“Nah, that’s alright. Heather’s like that too, actually.”

“Really, though. That wasn’t fair. I tried to lobby for a rematch, but even Wood thought it wasn’t needed.”

Hadrian was surprised. He guessed what they said about the Puffs’ sense of fairness was true. “Thanks, but it’s true that I got distracted during the game. You caught the snitch with your own merits.”

The other seeker still looked uneasy, so Hadrian gave him an encouraging smile. Cedric ducked his head and returned the gesture, albeit awkwardly. “Right… I’ll just be going.” He nodded in parting. “See you guys around.”

Hadrian watched as the older boy walked off. He looked curiously at Fred and George as they sniggered. Turning a questioning look at his sister, he found her giving the older boy a shrewd look.

Odd.

“Oh, right!” Hadrian exclaimed as they were heading inside.

“What is it?” Heather inquired.

“I saw Snuffles watching the match just now!” He smacked his forehead. “I can’t believe I just remembered.”

Heather, looking excited, opened the map, only to frown in disappointment. “He’s not here anymore.”

“Oh…”

“Come on guys!” Fred said, tugging them forward.

George pushed them from behind. “Let’s get out of this rain.”

“We’ll find-’

“-Snuffles eventually!”

~~~

“Miss Potter, remain behind.”

Heather looked curiously at her Head of House. Even after they had gotten over their differences, Professor Snape had never changed his treatment of her in public. He still gave her the cold shoulder except during their Wednesday meetings. Her fellow snakes gave her pitying looks. They had mostly ceased their outward hostility towards her, though they were far from friends. She ignored their looks and calmly sat back down. Unlike her peers, she knew the Professor meant her no harm.

He shut and locked the door after the other students all left. Striding to her desk, he stood before her. His imposing height towered over her, even more so as she was currently sitting. Heather looked up inquiringly, unintimidated.

“Miss Potter, that black dog you found the other day.” So the Professor had connected the dots as well. She had expected that. “Was that Sirius Black?”

Heather nodded. She saw no need to lie to the man; she wouldn’t have fooled him anyway. “I didn’t know it was him at the time. I only found out when Pettigrew confessed.”

Severus muttered an expletive under his breath. “I _told_ Albus that we needed anti-animagus wards built in.” He glared at the blatant amusement in the girl’s face.

“Have you been in contact with the mutt since then?” Loathe as he was to think of Heather Lyra anywhere _near_ that degenerate, he had to remind himself that the man was innocent – of betraying the Potters, at least.

“We’ve been trying to find him to no avail. I haven’t seen him since before Hallowe’en,” the girl said, frustrated. “Rian saw him briefly at the last Quidditch match, however he was gone before we could find him.”

At the mention of that match, Severus gave a dry look. “Ah yes. The historic moment where you revealed your Patronus.” And what a moment it had been. Albus had been amazed by the calibre of Heather Lyra’s magical ability, even though her emancipated status should have been proof enough. He couldn’t blame him. He himself had been rather impressed and that did not often happen.

“Tell me, Miss Potter, what possessed you to learn such a complex charm?” No one expected a fifth year to be able to perform a spell most adults could not even _begin_ to grasp.

The girl blushed fetchingly. Severus halted his thoughts. Where _was_ his mind going?

“I was reading about lethifolds and then dementors. I got curious about the spell.”

Pushing away his odd thought, he furrowed his brows. “Those creatures were covered in third year Defence.” Well, he doubted Quirrell would have adequately taught that lesson, or any lesson really.

“Yes, they were,” she said, sounding mildly puzzled.

She hadn’t…had she? “You learnt this spell in third year,” he stated incredulously. Of course she had. Wandless magic was child’s play to her, what to say of advanced charms?

“Yeah. I took quite a while to get it right. Fred and George helped me out, actually.”

He resisted the urge to snort derisively. Those two clowns?

Heather pouted lightly as she remembered their subsequent ribbing. “They poked fun at my form, though. I was hearing size jokes for weeks.”

Her Professor gave a questioning look. “My Patronus is really small,” she admitted.

“Preposterous. The size of the Patronus is not indicative of its potency. Recall Illyius and his mouse Patronus which was able to drive off a veritable army of dementors.”

Heather smiled at the backhanded compliment. She had been a little embarrassed for him to find out. She really admired her stern but capable Professor. A nice warm feeling filled her chest.

~~~

Hadrian knocked on the door. Receiving permission to enter, he opened it and walked in. Heather had mentioned that Professor Lupin had been friends with their father, and consequently Sirius Black. They’d been meaning to tell the DADA Professor about his innocence.

“Mr Potter, what brings you here? Do you have questions about our last lesson?”

Hadrian shook his head. “Professor Lupin, you were friends with my father, weren’t you?”

The man looked surprised. “Yes, I was.”

“And with Sirius Black as well?”

Eyes clouded in grief, he replied, “Indeed.”

“Well, we recently found out that Black is really innocent. Pettigrew was the actual Secret Keeper and framed him.” Might as well get to the point.

“What?” He looked shocked. “How do you know all this?”

“Heather and I found out that Ron’s pet rat Scabbers was Pettigrew. We caught him and Headmaster Dumbledore questioned him under truth potion.”

The older wizard slumped back into his seat, looking more aged than he usually was. “That means Sirius was wrongfully imprisoned in Azkaban. Oh Merlin! And he’s escaped! Who knows where he is now.”

“Actually, sir,” Hadrian said, “Heather met a black dog that we suspect is him. We haven’t been able to find him though.”

Just then, a brisk knock landed on the door and Professor Snape swept into the room carrying a goblet.

“Lupin, your potion.” The intimidating wizard thrust the goblet at the other. “Remember to take it!” With that, he turned and walked out, robes billowing impressively behind him. At least he had ignored him. The Potions Master usually sneered menacingly at Hadrian and had no lack of cutting insults.

“Ugh,” Professor Lupin grunted as he drank the potion, “I hate the taste of potions. I can’t even put sugar in this one since it will render it useless.”

“What’s that for?” Hadrian asked inquisitively.

“Oh, just for a chronic ailment I have,” the Professor said cryptically. “Anyway, thank you for informing me. I will ask the Headmaster for further details.”

Taking the dismissal for what it was, Hadrian stood to leave.

“Oh, Hadrian?” He turned to look at the kindly wizard. “If you would like to hear more about your parents, you and Heather may talk to me anytime.”

Smiling gratefully, Hadrian thanked the man and left.

~~~

“I told Professor Lupin about Sirius Black.”

“Oh?” Heather said, “How did it go?”

“He took it pretty well. It’s obvious he was closer to Black than Pettigrew. It was odd, though. Professor Snape came in to give him a potion. I wonder what potion it was that he couldn’t have gotten it for Madam Pomfrey. He’d said it was for a chronic ailment.”

Heather cocked her head. “What did it look like?”

Hadrian thought about what he’d seen. “It emitted blue smoke. Oh, and sugar neutralises it!”

Off the top of her head, Heather could think of one potion that fit the bill perfectly. She’d brewed it just a few weeks ago, after all. That explained both Professor Snape’s recent fixation during DADA and his antagonism towards Professor Lupin.

“It’s the Wolfsbane Potion. Probably even the one I helped brew.”

Rian startled. “Are you sure? That would mean-”

“Yes.” Heather nodded sharply. Professor Lupin was a werewolf.


	47. 'Tis the Season

Yule seemed to have snuck up on Heather. Between searching for her evasive godfather, Hadrian’s Patronus lessons and her personal potions research, she hadn’t noticed time flying by. She and her brother had considered returning home for the break, but because their friends had opted to stay, they had too.

When Heather woke on Christmas morning, a small pile of presents awaited her at the foot of her bed. Even after all these years, her heart warmed at the sight. The novelty of receiving presents – and its implication of being cared for – would never wear off. After washing up, she gathered her presents in an extendable knapsack and made her way to breakfast. Not before she put on her Weasley sweater though (a beautiful cream with a boiling cauldron in the centre). She didn’t care that the other students sneered at the clearly homemade piece – she loved all her Weasley sweaters and it was tradition.

As usual, the four house tables and teacher’s table had been replaced with a large table for everyone. It hardly made sense to separate everyone when so few had stayed for the holidays. She took her seat between Fred and Rian. It was one of the few days that the twins actually woke before her.

“Happy Christmas everyone!” A chorus of greetings was returned. Even the stern Professor Snape gave her a brief look, which in Snape-speak was a suitable equivalent. Heather dug into her breakfast and finished quickly at her brother’s behest. He was practically bouncing in his seat, he was so excited.

“Relax Rian, your presents aren’t going to apparate away!” she said teasingly.

“Nuh uh.” He shook his head. “I just can’t wait for you to see what I got you!”

Puzzled, Heather gathered her bag of presents and walked with her brother and their group of friends to Den. They had agreed to open all their presents (bar the sweater) together, though it had been a near-miss when Ron tried to sneak one before breakfast.

The room had been decorated for the holiday. A tiny pine tree stood proudly in the corner with strings of tinsel and little baubles hanging off of it. A few glowing fairies had agreed to help for today, fluttering about the plants in return for fresh nectar. The desk and chairs in the centre of the room had been pushed to the side for the occasion and they all sat on the plush rug in a circle.

“Open our-”

“-presents first!” the twins shouted enthusiastically. Heather was amused to note that they had switched their sweaters so that Fred’s had a G on it and George’s had an F.

She reached for the two brightest packages she had and undid the rainbow ribbons. She was only mildly surprised by the burst of confetti that erupted, though she _did_ jump at the tiny birds that flew out of the boxes then faded into nothing. Reaching into one of them, she took out a scroll of parchment. She unrolled it and gasped in awe.

It was an exquisite painting of her and her Patronus. Because her snidget was so tiny, she was only depicted from her chest upwards while her little bird flitted excitedly around her. It was incredibly rendered, down to the wispiness of her Patronus. Heather chuckled as her painted self shook her head to dislodge the mischievous bird from her hair.

“Thank you Fred; it’s beautiful,” she said warmly. Fred had inherited both twins’ artistic genes. “Almost makes up for all your size jokes. Trying to suck up to my snidget now?” He just stuck out his tongue at her.

Impatiently, George pushed his box towards her and she obligingly took out its contents. She held out the large jar of clear golden liquid, surprised. Uncapping the jar, she took a quick whiff. A sweet fragrance enveloped her senses. Nectar – the favoured food of snidgets. Likely nectar from the honeysuckle in the room. She laughed. “I sense a theme here, guys. If you wanted Patronus lessons, you just had to ask. I’m already teaching Rian anyway.” She carefully put aside the jar. Nectar that was unadulterated and home-grown was the best for potions. It must’ve taken a long time for George to extract so much, and so purely too.

“Well, since you-”

“-offered, we graciously accept!” they said, grinning.

That caught Hermione’s attention and then _she_ asked if she could join. Which then incited Ron to ask as well. Now she had _five_ eager students. Heather only hoped she would be able to help.

The gift-unwrapping continued after that. From Hermione, she got a book on Egyptian warding spells. She had to restrain herself from starting in on it immediately. Ron gave her an assortment of her favourites from Honeydukes. She hadn’t even realised that he knew what they were. Perhaps he had matured from his dislike of all things Slytherin. She gave him a sincere thanks, to which he blushed in embarrassment.

Next were her presents. She’d gifted Fred and George with their own pairs of dragonhide gloves. With how explosive their experiments were, they sorely needed them. She had even imbued several more protective charms into the gloves, which was really difficult. Dragonhide wasn’t exactly responsive to magic. To Hermione, she had given a rare first edition of Hogwarts, a History that she had found in an antique store in Hogsmeade. She had given Ron a Chudley Cannons jersey with signatures from each team member. It hadn’t actually been very expensive, due to the regrettably… _dismal_ performance of the team. For Hadrian, she had gotten a wand holster with various enchantments placed. It had anti-summoning and anti-theft charms on it. It was also spell-resistant, so magic up to minor hexes didn’t damage it. Rian’s holly wand didn’t have the protection her own laurel had. The time George had picked it up just to inspect it, it had shocked him painfully. Needless to say, Mulciber, who had tried to steal it from her in a fit of anger, had gotten an excruciating jolt.

Finally, it was Rian’s turn. Heather opened his gift slowly, teasing him. He grunted in frustration and told her to get on with it. She gave in and efficiently tore through the wrapping. She unveiled a gorgeous necklace that was obviously handmade. There were tiny ruby gems weaved into the leather twine and the pendant was a wicked-looking fang.

“I got the idea from Bill’s fang earring. Do you like it?” Hadrian asked

“I love it!” She immediately put it on. “What creature’s fang is it?” She fingered the sharp tooth which was encased in a sort of fitted leather sheath.

Rian winced a little. Chuckling weakly, he replied, “A basilisk?”

Heather jerked in shock. “Wait, what?” She stared at her guilty-looking brother. “You went back into the Chamber of Secrets? _Alone_?”

“I brought Anguis with me!” he said defensively. Said snake hissed loudly in agreement from where it was coiled around her human’s neck.

“Hadrian…”

“You like it right? I shrunk the fang and made a leather case for it so that you don’t accidentally pierce yourself and y’know. You can enlarge it and use it for self-defence if you need to!” he said rapidly.

Heather sighed and let it go. Rian had come back in one piece, hadn’t he? The necklace really was lovely. And really useful as well. While she doubted that she’d have to resort to fighting without magic, one never knew. Especially where she and her brother were concerned.

They then proceeded to open the rest of their presents. She had several gifts from her tutees in the various houses, mostly just little trinkets. Of course, for Purebloods like the Greengrass sisters, little trinkets meant more along the lines of acromantula silk scarves. Oddly enough, she even got a gift from Draco Malfoy. He’d only attended one of her unofficial lessons. Apparently, just that warranted the bejewelled phials he’d gotten her. Exquisite, but mostly decorative. She was glad that she had thought to prepare presents for them as well. Nothing fancy, just a phial of Sweet Dreams Draught for each of them. She had even added the peace rune _ingwaz_ into the potion.

She saw her brother lift out a large, long present from his pile. She stared at it in confusion. Who would have sent him such a generous gift? She was glad to see him unwrap it cautiously. It might be from someone with malicious intentions.

He gasped as the wrapping fell. Inside the package was the brand-new broom on the market, the Firebolt. It was a professional standard broom and was ridiculously expensive.

“Wow, mate!” Ron shouted excitedly, “That’s the Firebolt!”

“Who gave you that Hadrian?” Hermione asked worriedly, looking sideways at Heather.

She shook her head. “No, it wasn’t me.”

“Who cares who sent it?” Ron said, “With this, we’ll beat Slytherin to the ground!” He then looked sheepishly at Heather and said, “No offence.”

“Ronald!” Hermione exclaimed hotly, “It might be cursed! Remember what happened in first year?”

Heather let the two bicker. Honestly, they argued like an old married couple. She’d already made bets with the twins about them. She let her magic probe at the broom and cast several detection charms just in case. “Nope, no hexes, jinxes or curses. The only spells on it are those inherently used for flying.”

“Are you sure, Heather?” the other witch asked, while the others just nodded. Heather knew that it wasn’t a lack of trust, but too much concern that made her ask.

“Yes, very. I wouldn’t risk Hadrian.”

Hermione sighed in relief and nodded in acceptance.

“Hey Heather-harp, you-” Fred said.

“-have one more present unopened!” George pointed to a large package. It was wrapped in the same brown paper that the Firebolt had been in. From the same person then? After checking that it was okay, she removed the wrapping. And made a startled sound.

“What is it?” FredGeorge asked.

Heather cast a spell. Yup, totally genuine. Nestled firmly on a cushion was a cauldron. Not just any cauldron. A pure gold cauldron. Those cost a fortune – even more than the Firebolt!

“That’s a gold cauldron!” Hermione cried out animatedly.

“Who gave this, then? Could be dangerous!” Ron said snidely.

“Oh hush, Ronald! Surely Heather has checked it out already.”

“Yeah, it’s not been sabotaged. And it would have been an absolute tragedy if it had,” she said faintly. Pure gold cauldrons could greatly increase the efficacy of many potions. Some highly advanced ones could only be brewed successfully with them. This would be immensely helpful in her runic potions work!

“Earth to Heather!” George said loudly.

“Why do you think this mystery person gave you two these?” Fred questioned.

Heather shook aside her thoughts of brewing and considered the conundrum.

“Maybe Sirius Black did it,” Ron said offhandedly.

Actually, that was a likely possibility. Knowing now that the man was actually innocent, receiving Christmas gifts from him wasn’t much of a stretch. From the time they had spent with him as Snuffles, he knew that Heather liked Potions and Hadrian liked Quidditch. And he was still Lord Black despite his incarceration, so he had ample funds to buy these extravagant things. Goblins had little care for wizarding affairs, so they served all their clients regardless of status. Even if Voldemort himself walked into the bank and demanded a withdrawal, their only concern would be if he had sufficient money to do so.

That this wizard who was desperately evading the authorities had taken the trouble to obtain presents for Heather and Hadrian – and brilliant ones at that – spoke much of his love for them. As she stroked the rim of her new cauldron, she promised to step up her efforts to help their godfather.

~~~

Severus slammed his office door behind him and stomped to his desk. There was only so much insipid carolling and cheer he could take. And he would have to endure _more_ of it during tea with the old coot this afternoon as well.

He stopped short and stared suspiciously at the package on his desk. It was wrapped in simple white with a blue bow. Despite its innocuous appearance, he was reluctant to touch it. He knew what day it was – how could he not, with Albus and his blasted insistence on holiday cheer? However, he had already received his customary gifts from Albus, Minerva and even one from that damned Lupin.

He cast a series of thorough detection charms on the box, determined to suss out whatever malicious prank lay hidden. They came back blank. Impossible. His spells had not failed. Still not touching it, he used a quick unwrapping spell. The paper unravelled and peeled off. What remained was a wooden case. Impatiently, he flipped open the lid and stared, perplexed, at the rows of tiny phials inside.

It was then that he noticed a note tucked in the side of the box. After making sure that it was simply that, he picked it up.

_Fehu Blister Cure – quicker effects_

_Uruz Invigoration Draught – increases potency_

_Daguz Sleeping Draught – eliminates grogginess upon waking_

The list went on, describing the effects of each runic potion in the box. At the end of the note, was a simple _Happy Christmas._ No names mentioned. Smart girl. Teachers were not supposed to accept gifts from students.

He picked up one of the phials labelled _Fehu_ Regermination Draught. Looking at it critically, he poured three drops onto a straggling Deadly Nightshade he had in his office. He watched, satisfied, as the withering plant recovered and bloomed once again before his eyes. The original potion required at least a few hours to take effect.

The girl had been busy, it seemed. Severus replaced the phial and locked the box up tight. Feeling inexplicably lighter, he carefully lifted it up and brought it back to his quarters. His office was hardly secure enough to store this in.

After placing the box in the false bottom of his bedside drawer, Severus decided that perhaps having tea with Albus today was not such a horrid idea after all.


	48. Felons and Convicts

The school term began with bad news. That pesky Malfoy Heir had complained to his father about Buckbeak injuring him. ‘My father will hear about this…’, ‘My father will hear about that…’ Honestly, did the boy have no backbone of his own? Unfortunately, his father was Lord Malfoy and had considerable political standing. Buckbeak was under investigation right now for being a Creature Posing Serious Endangerment to Wizardkind. Hagrid was devastated and so was Hadrian.

Heather didn’t know much about wizarding law, but she _did_ know that Lucius Malfoy often greased the palms of the Wizengamot to get his way. That was all the prosecution he needed. If this was the standard of the judicial system, she could see why Sirius Black had been convicted wrongfully. He hadn’t even had a trial. To be fair, though, being surrounded by twelve dead muggles and laughing maniacally _did_ look very incriminating.

Regardless, Lucius Malfoy was a lord and what he said usually went. It was then that it occurred to Heather that she was legally Lady Potter. She had some law books to read.

~~~

“Okay guys, the Patronus Charm requires you to think of the happiest memory you have, one that outshines all other memories. Or at least that’s what most texts say.”

Hermione raised her hand eagerly. Heather stared in amusement at the appendage and the younger witch blushed before lowering it. “What do _you_ say then?”

“Personally, I don’t cast it like that. Well, not my first few times, at least. It is a theory of mine that any positive emotion does the trick. As long as it fills you so much that despair has no place to invade.” Heather smiled at her best friends. “In fact, Fred and George helped me in that respect. I was really struggling with the spell, then they said something that gave me an idea.”

“What was it?” Ron asked curiously. He had joined these lessons only because both his friends were doing them, but after seeing the spell being cast up close, he had begun to look forward to being able to do it. The spell looked totally brilliant!

“Laughter. Mirth, I suppose you could call it. For me, that worked better than the happy memories I had.”

“Why is that?” Hermione asked, frowning. “Happiness is a stronger emotion than amusement.”

Heather shrugged. “I think it’s because all my happy memories had associated sad ones.” She smiled deprecatingly before continuing, “Laughter, on the other hand, is pure enjoyment and mirth for me. Except in sarcasm and whatnot, of course.”

“You’ve got that-”

“-right, Heather-harp.”

“At least you’ve learnt-”

“-something from being our friend!”

“Laughter is the-”

“-essence of life!”

Heather rolled her eyes. “Anyway, the trick is to find what positive emotion works for you. And your memory or memories have to really be saturated in that feeling. Then, the incantation – _Expecto Patronum_!” A burst of light and her little snidget zipped out of her wand. Hadrian chuckled when it nuzzled in his messy locks before dissipating.

“How long did it take for you to get it?” Hermione asked, awed.

“Hmm, about four months to get a mist. After that, it was a matter of practice and focus to make it corporeal.”

“That long?” Ron asked, shocked.

“I’ve been trying for three months already and I’ve only recently made some mist appear,” Hadrian piped in, demonstrating his thin wisps.

“It’s still quicker than what I managed,” Heather praised, smiling proudly at her brother.

He ducked his head shyly. “Only because you didn’t have anyone to teach you.”

“That’s still amazing, Hadrian! This is very, very advanced magic. Only approximately 15% of adult wizards can perform this spell!” Hermione said.

“Well, what are-” George said

“-we waiting for?” Fred continued.

“Let’s get cracking!”

~~~

Heather held her arm out for Hedwig to land on. “Hey there girl, good work.” She removed the letter from Hedwig’s leg. “Would you like some bacon?” The owl hooted eagerly. Heather gave her several strips of from her plate. “Thank you as always. Here you go, go take a rest.” The snowy owl grabbed the offered food then flew off with an affectionate coo.

Too excited to wait, Heather opened the letter before continuing with her breakfast. She scanned it quickly and smiled in triumph. Griphook sure worked fast. This was perfect. Unfortunately, the Ministry wasn’t as efficient. Two months. No matter, she just hoped nothing happened to screw this up.

She finished her breakfast quickly. Rian had a match against Ravenclaw today. It would be the first match he played with the Firebolt. The Claws didn’t stand a chance. They hadn’t with the Nimbus, and they wouldn’t with the Firebolt. Admittedly, Cho Chang was a pretty good seeker. Too bad her brother was better. No, she wasn’t biased. At all.

She patted the small bulge in her pocket reassuringly. Now that Rian had his Firebolt, she had asked to use the Nimbus. GredForge thought carrying a shrunken broom to Rian’s matches was her paranoia acting up again, but it really made sense to her. If something happened out there, she wouldn’t have to wait for the broom she summoned all the way from the broomshed to arrive. Just a simple expanding charm and _voila_!

The match started off normally. The weather was thankfully clear – not a cloud in sight.  She heard the fevered murmuring as they saw the broom her brother was using. The Claws, especially, looked worried. He was circling the pitch lazily, appearing not to pay attention to his surroundings. Heather knew that it was a tactic of his to throw off the opposition.

The Gryffs and Claws were neck and neck in terms of points. When one team scored, the other retaliated. It was up to the seekers to win the match.

“And Potter takes off like a shot! Is it a distraction? And if so, will Ravenclaw’s gorgeous, beautiful Cho Chang take the bait?” Lee’s booming voice sounded over stands. Heather rolled her eyes in exasperation. The older boy still hadn’t stopped his inappropriate comments despite Professor McGonagall’s numerous warnings. She wondered why he wasn’t just replaced.

She watched keenly as Hadrian sped towards the snitch. The Firebolt lived up to its reputation, going so fast that Chang had little chance of catching up. Abruptly, Rian slowed as he fidgeted on his broom. Oh, what now?

Heather saw him take his wand out of the holster she’d given him at Christmas and point it towards the ground. To her amazement, a large silver coil burst out of his wand. It moved towards the shrouded creatures and drove them back. Her brother then proceeded to catch the golden snitch and lead his house to victory.

“That was wonderful, Rian!” Heather exclaimed, hugging her brother once she reached him.

“Indeed.” Professor Lupin walked up to them both smiling warmly. “That was quite the Patronus you cast there.”

“Thank you sir, but what are you doing out on the pitch?” Hadrian asked curiously.

The man grimaced wryly. “Just taking care of some unruly troublemakers.” He tilted his head to the side, indicating the robed creatures nearby.

Alarmed, Heather fingered her wand, ready to cast at a moment’s notice.

“No need for that. Seems like Draco Malfoy and his cohorts had a burning urge to dress up today.”

Sure enough, the cloaks fell to reveal Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle’s sullen faces. “15 points from Slytherin,” the Professor said, looking apologetically at Heather, “and detention with Mr Filch tomorrow.” Grumbling defiantly, the trio trudged off after the DADA Professor after Malfoy shot one last inscrutable look at her.

“And I was so sure I could handle dementors now…” Hadrian said dejectedly.

Heather put an arm around him. “Nonetheless, that was incredible! When did you finally accomplish it?”

“Just now, actually,” he said, laughing.

“What feeling did you use? Excitement?”

He looked up at her. “Love.” Smiling brightly, he added, “My Patronus is a snake, y’know.”

Heather teared up slightly as warmth bloomed in her chest. Not caring that it made walking more difficult, she pulled her brother closer to her side.

~~~

“Poor Hagrid,” Hadrian sighed despondently.

Heather frowned as she looked at the half-giant. He looked devastated. She remembered the oddly morose way he had taught her previous CoMC lesson. He used flobberworms – wholly unintimidating and boring creatures. Extremely out of character for him. “What’s wrong?”

“Buckbeak had his trial recently. He’s to be executed,” Rian said glumly. “Not even the defending statement Hermione wrote helped.”

Patting his back, she said, “Lucius Malfoy has connections. The best lawyers couldn’t have helped Buckbeak.”

“Well, that’s not fair at all! Buckbeak didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Unfortunately, the Wizengamot doesn’t care.”

A determined glint entered her brother’s eyes. Heather groaned in dread at the familiar look.

~~~

As the date drew closer, Heather grew increasingly nervous. She wrote and rewrote her speech, which meant she had to re-memorise it as well. Griphook had assured her that her case was rock-solid. Still…

Heather had still yet to tell the Headmaster of her plan. It wasn’t his business, anyhow. She _did_ have to inform him of her absence from school that day though. Oh well, she figured her official Ministry summons would do the job. As long as she sent the letter before she actually left Hogwarts, it would be fine. Hedwig could be persuaded to fly _very_ slowly from the owlery to the Headmaster’s office on the day itself.

Fortunately, the date fell on a Hogsmeade weekend. Only Fred and George knew of her plan, so they helped her to sneak away. It was simply a matter of flooing to the Ministry from the public floo in Hogsmeade. She stumbled clumsily into the polished Ministry foyer.

“Lady Potter.”

Heather looked at the middle-aged wizard who greeted her. The goblins had hired him, and she trusted their judgement.

“Mr Marshall.”

The man smiled curtly. “Shall we? Our appointment is for ten.”

Nodding, she followed after him as he navigated the veritable labyrinth of corridors. The large double doors of a room swung open slowly as they neared it. They both ignored the murmuring as they walked to the front of the room and took their seats.

Someone cleared their throat and announced loudly, “Lady Potter and her representative, Mr Mendel Marshall have arrived. Let the trial of Sirius Orion Black commence!”

~~~

Heather let out a tiny sigh of relief as Judge Bones banged her gavel firmly. She had been assured that there was little chance of losing, but to finally be certain was immensely liberating. When she found out that her godfather hadn’t even gotten a trial, she had been incensed. Then she had gotten thinking. It was well within her rights to demand one to make up for the oversight. As a Lady of the peerage, her say held even more weight than the average wizard. Wizarding law was certainly odd. The actual defendant didn’t even have to be present for his own trial. Which was a good thing, because she hadn’t found Snuffles yet. As his next-of-kin, she could act as his proxy in court.

The simple use of Veritaserum had been enough to convince the court that she had spoken the truth. While her Veritaserum testimony had technically been a recount of _another_ Veritaserum confession, it still held as sufficient evidence due to the convoluted laws. The truth serum was held as the gold standard of giving testimony. So when someone actually consented to use it, their words were usually taken without argument. Thus, Sirius Black had been declared innocent of all crimes and even received a substantial remuneration.

Hopefully he received newspapers wherever he was hiding.

~~~

Heather laughed gaily as she pounced on her brother. “I did it!”

Catching her just in time, he frowned in confusion. “Did what? Don’t tell me you learnt another insanely difficult spell. Was that where you went while we were in Hogsmeade?”

Still giggling, she said, “I…freed…Snuffles!”

“What? Snuffles?” He looked lost before realisation dawned. “Really? How did you manage _that_?”

“It was pretty easy, really. Rather anticlimactic, if I do say so myself.”

“Tell me!”

“Well, I demanded a trial for him then gave a Veritaserum testimony.”

“And they accepted that? Pettigrew and Snuffles weren’t even there!” Then he narrowed his eyes. “Were they?”

“Nope. But wizarding law doesn’t make much sense.”

Hadrian nodded sagely. “Now _that_ I believe.” Smiling widely, he said, “Sirius is officially innocent!”

“Yep,” she said, popping the ‘p’ sound. “The news will probably hit in tomorrow’s Daily Prophet.”

Her brother smirked. He was probably anticipating the uproar it would cause among the masses tomorrow. Gryffindor.

~~~

Sure enough, when the usual deluge of owls flew into the Great Hall to drop off their burdens, fevered discussion broke out across the room. Heather hid her smile in her bowl of porridge, enjoying the mayhem. Perhaps it wasn’t an exclusively Gryff trait.

She peered over at the other side of the room and saw her brother whispering with his two friends. She caught Fred and George’s gazes and they made thumbs up signs. Smiling in return, she went back to her meal. Or, at least she tried to. A letter appeared suddenly on her lap. Reading it, she sighed. She hurried through the remains of her breakfast before heading out of the hall.

Heather had thought it odd that the Headmaster hadn’t summoned her last night. It was truly serendipitous that he had been away for a meeting. Well, it was only a delay of the inevitable. Before she could say the password to the gargoyle, someone else beat her to it.

“Liquorice Wands,” a man said, disgust evident in his tone.

She was only mildly surprised that Professor Snape would attend the meeting as well. His protectiveness over the Slyths was hardly a secret. She had certainly never seen Professor McGonagall sit in on meetings between Headmaster Dumbledore and Rian.

“Ahh, Miss Potter, Severus, won’t you take a seat?” the kindly old wizard said cheerily. Not ‘Heather’ today? My, the Headmaster wasn’t too pleased, was he? “Lemon sherbet?”

She shook her head politely. The man seemed incapable of just getting to the point.

“I apologise for disrupting your weekend, Miss Potter, but there are a few questions I would like to ask you.”

Smiling benignly, she let the Headmaster continue. Professor Snape’s irritation was a palpable presence at her side.

“We received some interesting news today, didn’t we?”

“Oh, yes.” Was all she said.

Frowning mildly at her reticence, he asked, “Is it all true, Miss Potter? Did you arrange for a trial and testify on Sirius’ behalf?”

“Hmm, indeed I did.”

“Albus, stop asking all these inane questions. Yes, Miss Potter cleared the mutt’s name. Useless the Prophet may be, even it cannot spread fallacies about the Ministry. If you are quite done ascertaining these well-established facts, I have potions to brew.” The irate wizard made to stand up.

“Please, Severus, just bear with me a while longer,” the Headmaster said. With a huff, Professor Snape acquiesced. “Miss Potter, that was very resourceful of you. I only wish you had trusted me enough to inform me of your plans.”

Heather began preparing an answer that didn’t sound too rude, but was interrupted by loud barking outside the office.


	49. The Wolf and the Hound...and the Hippogriff?

The moment Headmaster Dumbledore opened his office door with a casual wave of his wand, a large black dog bounded eagerly into the office. The canine morphed seamlessly, shedding his inky fur and trading four legs for two. One step he was a dog, the next, a bedraggled wizard. The animagus headed straight for Heather, reaching her in three large strides.

Or he would have, if not for Professor Snape’s wand at his throat.

“Stay back, _Black_!” the Professor spat nastily. Wow, Heather had only heard that much venom in his voice in first year; when he’d pronounced ‘Potter’ like it was an Unforgiveable.

“Get out of the way, _Snivellus_!” the other man snarled, not unlike the dog he’d been mere seconds ago. His eyes flickered desperately to hers, taking her in like she was an oasis he’d found in the desert. Madly hopeful yet almost disbelieving.

“Now, Severus,” the Headmaster finally put in. “There’s no need for all that. You know Sirius is innocent. Put away your wand.”

“Yeah, Sniv, put away your wand!” Sirius Black taunted when Professor Snape didn’t budge an inch. Heather frowned at the confrontational tone. It’d been _years_ since their Hogwarts days. Merlin, they could really hold a grudge. She should’ve known, though, by Professor Snape’s initial treatment of her.

“Mr Black, you shouldn’t goad him like that,” Heather said. The dog animagus sputtered incredulously while the Professor smirked. “And Professor Snape, maybe you should put down your wand. I want to speak to my godfather properly.” And his smirk disappeared into a heavy scowl while Sirius Black’s expression turned smug.

Heather asked Merlin for the patience to deal with these two.

Sighing, Heather stepped out from behind the Professor. The irascible man could be so very protective of his snakes. She walked up to her godfather and put her hand out. “Pleased to finally meet you, Mr Black.”

The man’s eyes shone happily as he disregarded her hand – and the wand at his neck – to pull her into a hug. “Oh, little fawn, you’ve grown so much!”

Startled, Heather stood stiffly for a while before putting her arms around the man. She hid her mild discomfort at being so close to the almost-stranger. Whatever horrors he’d experienced in Azkaban had taken their toll on him. His grip was just this side of too tight and his voice tinged with desperation.

Apparently, she couldn’t fool her Head of House. She felt a steadying grip on her shoulder as Sirius Black was pushed unceremoniously away. At the enraged look on her godfather’s face, she smiled brightly and interjected, “Let’s go find Hadrian; we have so much to catch up on, Mr Black!”

It did the trick; the man perked up like a puppy offered a walk. She could even imagine a tail wagging excitedly behind him. “You can just call me Sirius or Padfoot, or even Snuffles really. So long as it’s not Mr Black.” He made a face at the formal address. “C’mon, let’s go find little Prongslet!”

“Albus, surely you are not allowing Miss Potter to be alone with this _felon_?” Professor Snape sneered contemptuously.

“Thank you for volunteering to serve as their chaperone, then, Severus,” Headmaster Dumbledore said jovially.

The dour wizard growled something inaudibly before commanding Heather and Sirius to hurry up.

Heather hid a smile and led the way out of the office. Sirius eagerly trailed after her while the Professor just strode, glaring daggers at the other man.

“Where are we going?” Sirius asked.

“The Quidditch pitch.”

He tilted his headed inquiringly. She was amused to note how canine that appeared. “How do you know that the pup is there?”

Heather smiled sheepishly. “I may or may not have a permanent tracking charm on him.”

Sirius goggled in shock. Even the Professor shot her a disbelieving glance.

Sighing, she said, “He has all the curiosity of a cat and eight less lives.”

“Like a true Marauder!” Sirius announced proudly.

Professor Snape made a derisive sound. “Only you, _mutt_ , would be proud of your godson being a good-for-nothing hooligan.”

Heather frowned disapprovingly but remained silent. She didn’t like the way he spoke of Rian, but he had a certain persona to uphold. She only knew about it because of how he much more relaxed he was during their Wednesday sessions.

Her godfather had no such restraint. “What did you say, you slimy snake?” he snarled.

“Sirius!” Heather admonished. Granted, the other wizard had started it. But it irked her that Sirius had insulted her Professor. She chalked it up to the Slyth Unity thing. “I’m a Slytherin too, in case you hadn’t realised.”

Sirius turned to her quickly and gave her a pleading look. “Of course I didn’t mean _you_! It was just _Snivellus_.”

Heather bristled at the slur against her Head of House. “His name,” she said coldly, “is Severus Snape – Master of Potions and Hogwarts’ Potion Professor. Technically, you should either be addressing him as Master or Professor Snape.”

“Sure as bloody hell not gonna call him _Master_ ,” Sirius muttered scornfully.

“My, my, Black. Cursing in front of your young goddaughter? What an excellent role model you are turning out to be,” the Professor said slyly.

“Sod off, Sniv-” he cut of abruptly at her warning look. “Professor Snape,” he forced out through gritted teeth.

Heather caught the nod and tiny smirk her Professor sent to her and she looked down quickly.

The sudden heat in her cheeks must have been due to the long walk from the Headmaster’s office to the pitch.

~~~

Professor Snape left them at the Quidditch pitch, but not before giving a subtle glance in her direction. She nodded to signal that she could handle it. Sirius really was innocent, after all. Her Professor’s misgivings stemmed from his personal vendetta against the man.

She and Sirius found Rian flying circles around Ron. She saw that Hermione was sitting on the stands, engrossed in a book. Waving at her brother, she gestured to Sirius. As she expected, Hadrian sped towards them and pulled out from his dive dangerously close to the ground.

“Heather! You found Snuffles!” Rian exclaimed.

“Hey there, pup!” The man hugged Hadrian enthusiastically. “You fly amazingly! Just like James used to.”

“It’s also due to my awesome broom. Thanks for this, by the way!”

“You knew it was from me?”

“We kind of guessed. Not many would spend that much on gifts for us. We already knew you were innocent by then, so…” Hadrian trailed off. “Anyway, I’ve got nothing on Heather! She flies even better than some professionals!”

Heather’s embarrassed protests were drowned out by the two wizards’ chattering. She’d figured they would get on well. Hadrian was the cheerier and more sociable of them two. Despite Azkaban, she could tell Sirius had that sort of irrepressible enthusiasm as well.

“Oh, you’ve met Hermione and Ron, right? When you were Snuffles?” Hadrian dragged Sirius by the arm towards his two friends.

“Nice to meet you, Mr Black,” Hermione said politely while Ron mumbled something along those lines at her pointed glance.

Sirius waved off their greetings. “Heya kiddos. Call me Sirius; Mr Black is too serious, or rather, _un-Sirius,”_ he said, waggling his brows.

Heather’s lip twitched at the poor pun. “That was horrible.”

“You Sirius-ly think so?” he asked with a fake wounded look on his face.

Sighing in exasperation, she made no further comment. It would only serve to encourage him.

“Hey, isn’t Remus a Professor here?” Sirius asked eagerly.

Hadrian nodded. “Uh huh. The best defence teacher we’ve had!”

“Mate, we’ve only had Quirrell and Lockhart to compare with,” Ron scoffed.

“Remus knew your parents too, you know. We were the Marauders; James, Remus, me,” he said, then sneered, “…and _Peter_.”

“Yeah, we have your map!” Hadrian withdrew the parchment from his bag and held it out. “It’s great!”

“The spellwork that went into making it must have been highly complex!” Hermione said. “And it’s amazing that you made it while still in Hogwarts!”

Sirius puffed up proudly. “Of course! Remus was stellar at finding obscure spells and James had very strong magic. Of course, _I_ did most of the creative work!”

Heather rolled her eyes at the boast and looked at the map. “Hey, Sirius, want to go find Remus? I’m sure you two have a lot of catching up to do. He’s right there,” she said, pointing at a nearby point on the map.

Sirius whooped excitedly and dragged them all in search of ‘Moony’.

~~~

“So, if you’re Padfoot because you’re a dog animagus, Pettigrew’s Wormtail because he’s a rat and Professor Lupin’s Moony because of…y’know, why’s Papa called Prongs?” Heather inquired.

“Well, he’s-” Sirius stared at them, bug-eyed. “Wait, you know about Moony’s furry little problem?” he asked incredulously. Professor Lupin also stared closely at them.

“Err, yeah. If that’s what you wanna call it,” Hadrian answered. “Remember that one time I saw Professor Snape hand you that potion?”

“I kind of found out it was Wolfsbane Potion after Hadrian told me about it. I helped brew that batch, I think,” Heather explained.

“And you’re okay with it?”

“You can brew Wolfsbane?”

Professor Lupin looked at Sirius in consternation. “That’s not the issue right now, Padfoot!”

“Well, we’re not disgusted about your condition, if that’s what you were asking, Professor,” Heather said. “And yes, Sirius. Professor Snape taught me how to. I can’t get the ingredients on my own, though. They’re restricted to people with Outstanding Potion NEWTS.”

Sirius grimaced at the mention of the greasy git. He still couldn’t stand him, but had stopped insulting him after being subjected to his goddaughter’s disapproval after that one time. In front of her, at least. “Don’t know why you like him so much.” That didn’t mean he stopped questioning her sanity, though.

“Professor Snape has helped and protected me and Hadrian numerous times!” Heather repeated while Rian nodded in agreement. “Anyway, Prongs?” she prompted when all Sirius did was make a revolted face.

“Oh, right! James was a stag animagus. We learnt the transformation so that we could keep Moony company on full moon nights.”

At the mention of his nickname, Professor Lupin snapped back to attention. Heather noticed that he’d drawn in on himself after the werewolf revelation. He was probably used to drawing disgust and fear for being what he was.

“Professor Lupin, we didn’t tell anyone about it. And we really don’t think badly of you.” She smiled at him in reassurance.

The man grinned faintly, looking years younger. “Thank you, Heather, Hadrian. That means a lot to me.”

Heather and Hadrian spent the rest of that afternoon listening to stories about their parents, with Remus’ soothing voice narrating most of the time interspersed with Sirius’ dramatisations.

~~~

Heather arrived at the Great Hall in a sombre mood. Buckbeak’s execution was nearing and there wasn’t anything she or Hadrian could do. Against a more well-established Lord like Lucius Malfoy, even her status as a Lady couldn’t do much.

She took her seat and started loading her plate listlessly. She wished that there was _something_ she could do. Hadrian had been absolutely depressed recently. Only meeting Sirius had managed to lift his spirits briefly. Her heart ached to see her brother so despondent.

She paid little attention as the usual cacophony of hooting that signalled the arrival of the morning mail began. Only when she spied her beloved Hedwig did she stop eating. Holding up an arm, she braced herself aganist the sharp talons digging lightly into her flesh.

“Hello Hedwig,” she cooed lovingly to her snowy owl. The bird held up her leg and deposited a newspaper into Heather’s waiting hand. “Thank you.” She put the newspaper down and gave Hedwig some bacon. Oddly enough, the owl refused the food and pecked at the newspaper.

“Hedwig, what are you doing?” The bird just picked the paper up again and thrust it at Heather. “I’ll read it later, after breakfast.” Hedwig hooted and insistently pushed the newspaper in her face.

“Okay, okay! I’ll read it now, girl. Come on, don’t you want some bacon?” she cajoled. Hedwig hooted approvingly and flew off with the strips of meat. Heather stared at her familiar in confusion before turning to the paper in her hands. The headline wasn’t very interesting; something about the Harpies. She scanned the rest of the newspaper, finding little of import. Just as she was about to put the Prophet back down, a short article caught her eye.

**Hippogriff Flies Scot-Free!**

_In a dramatic turn of fate, Sirius Black was proven innocent of his crimes against the Potters earlier this year. Deprived of a trial before his incarceration, a simple Veritaserum test acquitted him of all charges. As compensation for wrongful imprisonment, the Ministry agreed to grant him a boon. Black had not claimed it on the spot, but he has now._

_A lesser-known court case against Hogwarts hippogriff Buckbeak by the Lord Malfoy for grievous injury done to the Heir Malfoy has been brought to light by the newly-instated Lord Black. Initially sentenced to death on the 6 of June after being declared too dangerous to live, Buckbeak has since been cleared of all charges. Lord Black, feeling empathy for the innocent creature, had demanded the Ministry reopen the case on the grounds of unfair and partial ruling. Thorough investigation led by the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Madam Amelia Bones, uncovered numerous inconsistencies in the court process. Buckbeak was eventually acquitted and has since been safely returned to Hogwarts._

_In light of these grossly mishandled criminal cases, this reporter wonders what other incompetencies the Ministry is concealing._

Heather stared at the article in surprise. The reporter had been smart enough not to outrightly accuse Lucius Malfoy of bribing and threatening Ministry officials to get his way, but anyone with half a brain could infer it. Sirius had made great use of his boon. Not only had he freed Buckbeak, he’d discredited Malfoy in the guise of standing up for a fellow wronged convict. She hadn’t known how Slytherin her godfather could be.

She would admit that she’d had her reservations about the man. Sure, he’d been a best friend of Papa’s, but her father hadn’t exactly been the best judge of character. Case in point: Pettigrew.

Rian had adored him immediately, of course. He was the trusting Gryff. She wasn’t as easy to convince. Now, though… A boon from the Ministry was quite precious to give up just for a hippogriff. To do all this just for Rian… Well, she wasn’t stranger to such sentiments. Circe knew what she’d sacrifice for her brother.

That didn’t mean that Heather would invite Sirius to stay in their home like Hadrian had suggested, though. It would take more than that for her to trust Sirius Black (or Remus Lupin, for that matter) to that extent.

She would make him _work_ for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can check out my new Tumblr for updates on my writing! I plan to post about fics in the making, or parts of the plot I'm still hashing out. If you're interested, you can find it here: https://lunarlooroo.tumblr.com


	50. Student's Bane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh, guys! We've reached 1000+ kudos for this fic! I'm so happy that we've come this far! Hope you'll be patient with me. I know the updating schedule has been slower recently. Remember, updates are every two weeks on saturday/sunday. Thanks for all your support!

Rays from the sun streamed through the white lace curtains, providing the perfect gentle wake-up call on a summer day. Or it would have, had Heather not been up and running hours ago already. She had taken advantage of the cool morning weather to tend to the garden out back. The flowerbeds and herb garden were doing superbly; Dobby had outdone himself with the upkeep of the Nest while Hogwarts had been in session.

She took a quick but thorough shower to cleanse herself of the dirt and grime. Towelling her hair dry (drying charms only served to frizz it up), she contemplated today’s schedule. The summer holidays had started just a week ago and Heather had delighted in evading the Headmaster’s pleas to live in a warded safehouse or some such place. She scoffed internally at the memory. The Nest was plenty secure, thank you very much. She _never_ took chances with Hadrian’s safety.

They would be visiting the Burrow today, she recalled as she descended the stairs. Rian was probably ready to leave already. Sure enough, when she entered the sitting room where the fireplace was located, she saw her brother waiting impatiently by the floo.

“About time, Heather!” he called out.

“Good morning to you as well, Hadrian,” she said wryly.

Looking abashed, he returned the greeting. “Come on! Let’s go already.”

“It’s only been a week since you saw them last,” she retorted. Nevertheless, she nodded at him to go on ahead. He almost always preceded her in the floo. All the better to catch her when she stumbled. Before she could leave herself, Dobby popped into the room.

“Mistress Heather!” the elf squeaked excitedly, “Little owl brought letters for yous and Master Hadrian!” Heather accepted the two envelopes and thanked Dobby who then returned to his duties. Glancing at the letters, she smirked and put them in her pockets. What luck that they were delivered today when she would be going to the Burrow. Bracing herself, she threw down the powder and yelled out, “The Burrow!”

Familiar and unwelcome disorientation greeted her before she was spit out of the Weasleys’ fireplace. Used to the routine by now, she easily fell into her brother’s waiting arms. It was pitiful how no one was even amused by her uncharacteristic clumsiness anymore – her flooing skills were _that_ bad.

“Good morning, Heather and Hadrian! Lovely Sunday, isn’t it?” Mr Weasley greeted. “The twins are out back and Ron’s in his room.”

Thanking the man politely, they separated to find their respective best friends. Heather went out into the backyard as Mr Weasley had indicated and found Fred and George de-gnoming the garden. They seemed to take way too much joy out of flinging the little pointy-headed creatures off the property.

“Hah, that was at least _33_ feet!” Fred boasted, flexing his biceps demonstratively.

“Oh, come off it. That gnome was much scrawnier than mine and you know it!” George rebutted.

“I bet I could top that,” Heather put in slyly.

“Heather-harp!” they exclaimed. “You’re here!”

Fred then narrowed his eyes. “Wait, what did you say?”

“As if you could – we’re _beaters_ , love,” George snorted.

“Willing to put your chocolate where your mouth is?” Heather challenged.

“I don’t think that’s-”

“-how it’s said.”

She shrugged. “Yeah, but I’d rather take your chocolate than your money. You guys always have the best.” Narrowing her eyes, she asked, “So do we have a deal?”

“If we win we get exclusive use-”

“-of your lab for a week; you _always_ hog it.”

“Fine,” she agreed.

“Your loss then, harpy. We’ve been throwing-”

“-gnomes for years! You don’t stand a chance.”

“We’ll see about that,” she said, smiling widely.

Fred and George shivered inexplicably, but handed Heather a protesting gnome. It was a fairly large thing. Just because she was their best friend didn’t mean they’d go easy on her.

Heather lifted it experimentally, testing its weight. It was _really_ heavy. No matter. Focussing inwards, she readied herself. She then hefted it higher and flung it forward. It flew and flew and flew…

Until it _finally_ landed.

She grinned in satisfaction as she looked at her two friends. Their jaws hung open, staring at the gnome as it righted itself and scuttled away. She could understand their shock. She was really tiny – _petite_ damn it! – and slim. Her appearance didn’t exactly scream strength. And it was true, she wasn’t really very strong.

Her _magic,_ on the other hand…

They really should know better than to bet with a Slytherin.

“Hmm, is that 41 or 42 feet, I wonder?” she asked airily.

“How- what- huh?” they stuttered.

Fred then looked at her accusingly. “You used magic!”

“Wandless is cheating, Heather!” George whined.

She remembered the conversation she’d had with them about her and Hadrian’s wandless capabilities about a year back. After impressing upon them the importance of keeping it a secret, of course. While not exactly thrilled that she’d kept it from them, they understood her reasons. If anything, they mourned all the missed pranking opportunities.

They had been very impressed when she demonstrated some wandless magic later on. Not just wandless spells, but her manipulation of wandless raw magic. Spells were just a sort of structure to mould magic around for a certain outcome. Kind of like a template. However, with enough control, focus and imagination, anyone could just bend magic to their will without spells. Keeping in mind certain laws of magic, of course.

Predictably, they had begged her to teach them how to do it too. She had had them starting simple with just wandless first year spells at the time.

She raised a sceptical brow. “As I recall, the only terms were that I exceeded your throw of 33 feet. You didn’t specify that I had to use only my strength to throw it.”

“Damn Slytherin,” they muttered together.

“Cough up the Honeyduke’s Finest, boys!”

“It’s in our room,” they grumbled as they trudged back inside to fulfil their bet.

Laughing, she followed them in, already anticipating the delicious confection.

~~~

Munching delightedly on a bar of her winnings, she watched as an owl flew into the room and dropped off several letters. The twin pouting expressions morphed into curiosity as they looked through the mail.

They shouted eagerly, “They’re here! They’re our-”

“-exam results?” Heather finished. The release of marks had been delayed this year. The public outcry after Sirius’ situation was made known forced the Ministry into restructuring several departments. Among the affected was the examinations department. (Heather highly doubted that there was any improvement made.) Thus, the tests hadn’t been marked in time to release the results before term ended.

“How do you-”

“-know that?”

“I got mine this morning,” she said, holding up her unopened letter. “I thought we could open them together. Hold on, I’ll call Rian down.”

“Get Ronniekins and Gin too.”

“And Percy?”

“The git probably got straight Os anyway.”

Rolling her eyes, Heather nodded and went upstairs to fetch them – Percy included _._

Once everyone was gathered (even Mr and Mrs Weasley) they opened their letters. Instead of looking at her own marks, she observed the others’ expressions.

Hadrian looked satisfied as he read his letter. He looked up and she smiled at him in pride. He was a very competent student and wizard; she didn’t worry about his results at all.

Ron, in contrast, was grimacing at his parchment. She had hoped her brother and Hermione would have a good influence on the lazy boy, but apparently it was in vain.

Speaking of Hermione, she had a little furrow in her brows and was muttering inaudibly to herself. Perhaps going over the exams in her head again to see where she went wrong.

Percy, though, was smiling smugly, triumph obvious in his posture. He had taken his NEWTs, hadn’t he? He must’ve done excellently.

“Hey, Heather. How did you do for your OWLs?” Rian asked.

She finally looked at her own parchment. “Pretty well, I think.”

Hermione asked, “What grades did you get?”

“Hmm, Os except in Divination, which was an E.” She was surprised she’d gotten that high, actually. If there was anything she’d learnt before starting her self-study, it was that she was no seer.

Hadrian snatched her letter away. “Let me take a look!” He scanned it quickly, eyes growing wide.

“What is it?” Hermione asked.

“Heather got the top mark in the year for Ancient Runes and Potions!”

“Well done, dear!” Mrs Weasley praised. “That’s 10 OWLs?”

“11, actually,” Heather said, slightly embarrassed.

“How did you cope with so many subjects, Heather?” Hermione asked in an awed tone. “I’ve got all 12 and I’m stretched so thin!”

“Which classes are you doing self-study in?” Heather asked.

“Self-study?” Hermione said, bewildered. “You mean you don’t attend lessons?” She looked faintly scandalised.

Heather nodded. She couldn’t go for all of them anyway; the times would clash. “For Divination, History and Runes. The trick is to just do independent study for those classes that you know you’d do better in on your own.” At the other witch’s confused expression, Heather asked, “If you haven’t been doing that, how did you attend your lessons?”

“She went to all of them! Even those that occurred at the same time. Don’t know how she did that,” Ron commented, annoyed.

At the girl’s obvious nervousness, Heather just said, “I’ll give you some tips later. Right now, I want to know how Gred and Forge did.” Hermione shot her a grateful look. Hmm, she wondered what the other girl was hiding.

Tucking that thought away, she looked expectantly at her two best friends. By now, everyone was watching the uncharacteristically quiet pranksters.

“Well, come on then. Tell us how _well_ you did,” Percy said mockingly.

The two looked mournfully at each other and sighed.

“We didn’t do very well…” George whispered.

Mr Weasley patted them consolingly on their backs. “Now, now boys, as long as you worked hard…”

“Yeah,” Fred said sadly, “Thanks, Dad.”

“So you’re not mad we only got 8 OWLs?” George asked dejectedly.

“Oh, of course no- What?” Mrs Weasley exclaimed. “ _8_ OWLs, you said?”

They nodded glumly, though Heather could see the mischievous light in their eyes.

“Failed History. We would have _so_ liked to get 9 OWLs,” they announced dramatically.

“Those are great results!” Mr Weasley said, not quite able to hide the tinge of shock.

“Why the surprise, dear ol’ Dad?”

“We’re almost insulted.”

“Didn’t think we’d get Os in Care and DADA, did you?”

“Or an E in Herbology?”

“Speak for yourself, Gred. _I_ had an O.”

“Oh hush up, don’t think I didn’t see that E in Transfiguration.”

With a relish, they concluded, “At least we also got O in Charms and _Potions_. Better make good on that deal, Heather.”

“What deal are you talking about? Don’t tell me you made bets about your _exams_!” Mrs Weasley demanded irately.

“It was less of a bet and more an… _assurance_ , you could say, Mrs Weasley,” Heather said.

“How is it that you managed to get these two troublemakers to do so well for their exams?” the Weasley matriarch asked, amazed.

Heather looked at Fred and George, who chimed in, “Now, _that’s_ a secret!”

Laughing at the others’ put out looks, she thought about the conversation they’d had near start of term.

~~~

_“Fred! George!” Heather hollered as she stormed into the Den._

_Putting faux innocent looks in their faces, they looked up. “Yes, Heather?”_

_“Mind telling me why you both got detention for not handing in last week’s homework?”_

_“Because we didn’t?”_

_“Yeah, Heather, it’s pretty self-explanatory.”_

_Glaring, she asked, “And why didn’t you do your work?”_

_Fred shrugged. “We were busy.”_

_“Look, our new prototype!” George said proudly._

_Sighing explosively, she sat on the couch. “Guys, you need to take your schoolwork seriously too!”_

_“Why should we?”_

_“We get the important stuff.”_

_“Who really needs to know who-”_

_“-started the Fourth Goblin Rebellion anyway?”_

_Heather frowned at the stubborn boys. “We have our OWLs this year!”_

_They gave her unimpressed looks._

_She tried again. “Those grades are needed to get onto your NEWT classes. At the rate you’re going, you two won’t be able to make it into the important ones.”_

_“Don’t worry so much!”_

_“We’ll manage just fine without those classes.”_

_Fine, the big guns it was then. “How about a deal?”_

_As expected, they perked up at the suggestion. “We’re listening.”_

_“You know about my emancipation?” They nodded, puzzled. “I’ve been making investments with the goblins, but now that I’m legal, I can officially make investments in external parties.”_

_“So?”_

_“So, you two need capital for your ‘Wicked Weasley Ways’, or whatever you’re calling it now.” Their gazes sharpened as they caught on. Heather smirked; she had them. “The thing is, I need to be assured that my investment will be lucrative. Perhaps two aspiring business owners with great marks?”_

_George and Fred looked at each other with considering looks. Fred turned back to her and asked, “How great are we talking?”_

_She hummed. “7 OWLs. Including Outstandings in Charms and Potions- Oh, don’t look at me like that! You two_ know _Professor Snape only accepts Os in his NEWT class. And you need it for clearance to buy rarer ingredients too! How else will you proceed with your future experiments?”_

_She gave them some time to think it over. After a silent conversation between the two, they came to a decision. Straightening, they each held a hand out. “You have a deal.”_

_Shaking their hands, she grinned sharply. “Good. Now let’s talk details.”_

~~~

Heather beamed proudly at Fred and George, who were needling their little brother about his own marks. She’d known they could do it, given sufficient motivation. They really were brilliant wizards. Which was why she’d always been so frustrated at their performance in school. She didn’t doubt that they could easily be two of the top few students if they wanted to.

With the marks that they’d secured, they could easily get into the core NEWT classes. Even if Professor Snape grumbled about the trouble they’d cause. She’d prod them into working for their NEWTs too. Business owners without good NEWTs weren’t taken very seriously, after all. No one would feel safe buying inventions from flunkies.

Now to send off that proposal she’d prepared months ago to Griphook. It would be best to start looking as early as possible if they wanted property in an advantageous location.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me on my new [tumblr](https://lunarlooroo.tumblr.com)!


	51. Resurgence

A dark blur barrelled into Heather and Hadrian, almost knocking them to the ground with the force of impact.

“Fawn! Prongslet!”

Smiling at her godfather’s exuberance, Heather returned his hug. She’d gotten somewhat used to his tactile affection after being a recurring recipient of his ‘love tackles’, as he liked to call them. She didn’t begrudge him these; she suspected it was a result of the lack of human contact during his years in prison.

“Ready for the Quidditch World Cup?” Sirius said after finally releasing his hold on them.

“You bet!” Hadrian exclaimed, “I can’t wait to see Viktor Krum in action!”

“Thanks again for the tickets, Padfoot,” Heather said.

“No, problem.” He waved them off.  “Come on! The Weasleys are already at the clearing with the portkey.”

They walked toward where the mass of redheads were gathered. Heather noticed two brunets in the crowd and squinted to get a clearer look. One of them was vaguely familiar. When they neared the group, one of the males turned around and caught sight of them.

“Hey, there are Hadrian and Heather!”

Surprised, she gave a little wave to the whole group. Rian gave the boy a cheerful greeting after doing the same for the rest. “Hello Cedric!”

After Sirius introduced himself, Mr Weasley introduced Cedric and his father, Amos Diggory. Heather thought the man looked nice enough.

“This is the Boy-Who-Lived, eh?” And _that_ impression went up in smoke.

“Nice to meet you, Mr Diggory,” Hadrian nonetheless said politely.

“Doesn’t look like much,” the man said contemptuously. “No wonder you were able to beat him at Quidditch. _My_ son, beating the _Boy_ - _Who_ - _Lived_!”

With narrowed eyes, Heather said calmly, “Appearances can be deceiving, Mr Diggory. Surely a discerning man like yourself doesn’t take anything at face value?” She smiled sweetly at the man’s sputtered protests.

To his credit, Cedric looked appropriately mortified by his father’s rudeness. “Sorry Hadrian,” he whispered after his father turned his back to talk to Mr Weasley. “My father’s just really competitive about these things. Wants to be the best. Have the ‘best’ son.” The Hufflepuff’s expression showed how much he thought of that.

“S’alright, Cedric. So you excited for the match?” Hadrian asked eagerly.

Heather left them to their conversation, smiling inwardly at the way they immediately closed the gap that she’d left between them.

“Hey there GredForge.” The twins were whispering deviously to Sirius, no doubt involving him in one of their schemes. They practically worshipped the ground he walked on. No surprise, considering all the tales she’d told them of the Marauder’s conquests. She’d made it clear that she wouldn’t tolerate anything bullying or hazing, though.

“Heather-harp! Our good man-”

“-Sirius, here, was just expanding our horizons.”

“We never noticed how blind we’ve been to-”

“-other avenues of pranks!”

“These muggle devices-”

“-he gave us are genius!”

Poor Sirius was rapidly looking between the two, getting dizzier by the second. Their fragmented speech pattern took a while to get used to.

“Just as long as you don’t hurt anyone,” she reminded them. They winced at the warning, clearly remembering the tongue-lashing she’d given them when a group of first year Claws had tripped and badly abraded their palms and knees because of a prank. She’d also made the two carry the Ravenclaws’ books around for three days as recompense.

“Come on everyone! The portkeys will be going off in a minute!” Because there were so many people, two portkeys had been assigned to them. Heather headed for what she had dubbed as the kids group. Except for Sirius, but he was practically a kid anyway.

She forgot to brace herself as the portkey activated since the only other time she’d used a portkey was two years ago. The sickening twist in her navel saw her landing unsteadily at their destination. Tottering to the side, she accidentally knocked into Rian before Sirius grabbed hold of her to prevent her fall.

Unfortunately, he was too late to save Hadrian as well. Her brother stumbled and came close to falling flat on his face before he was caught in strong arms.

Hadrian clutched at the arms steadying him. One second he’d been standing upright, the next he’d been pushed to the side. His sister’s lack of affinity with wizarding travel had struck again. He righted himself and looked up to thank whomever had saved him from a tumble. And came inches away from grey eyes. He stared dazedly at the face so close to his own before coming to his senses.

Blushing something fierce, he backed away quickly and looked back down, missing the light red also dusting his companion’s face.

“T-thanks, Cedric.”

“N-no problem.”        

Hadrian turned away from the awkward conversation and saw Heather straightening from her own near-fall. No one seemed to have noticed the odd encounter. For some reason, he was relieved by that.

However, he didn’t notice the amused twitch at the corner of his sister’s lips.

~~~

“Oh Merlin! Remember when Krum just went plummeting down then pulled out of his dive at the last millisecond and then caught the snitch?” Hadrian chattered excitedly, making large gestures in demonstration.

Heather hummed and mmhed at the right places, nodding as he recounted the entire match. For the third time. He then turned to Cedric on his other side and continued his spiel. The older boy was still listening attentively, smiling at her brother and responding to his questions.

She nudged Fred and tilted her head in their direction. The twins looked at the two seekers and snickered quietly.

“Those two-”

A loud scream cut George off. Heather jerked in the direction of the sound and saw a large crowd amassing a distance from them. They wore black robes that covered their whole body and bone white masks. Heather thought they looked eerily like the reapers she’d read of in muggle fiction. More pertinently, they looked like Deatheaters.

Ice shot through her veins and she shot a panicked glance at her brother to make sure he was still at her side. “Wands out!” she ordered. “The law about underaged magic won’t hold in this circumstance.” She looked at the group. Hadrian, Cedric, Fred, George, Ron and Hermione. Why oh why had they decided to go on an evening stroll? “Come on, we need to get to the adults!”

She assessed them quickly and shot out, “Cedric, you and Hadrian take the front. Fred and George, left and right. Ron and Hermione in the middle. I’ll take the rear.” As much as Hermione was a brilliant witch, duelling wasn’t her best skill. Ron’s handling of spells was shaky at best. They would need the most protection. She was just glad that Ginny had opted to stay with her parents. They shifted into position without question, even the older Cedric. She then cast a colourless shield dome around them.

“We should get back to the tents first. The adults are probably looking for us,” Hermione suggested. Everyone agreed, and they moved in that formation towards where they had come from. Hopefully, they wouldn’t encounter any of the Deatheaters.

That hope was dashed by the lurid red jet that hurtled towards them and bounced off of her shield. A group of four Deatheaters gathered around them, thinking them easy pickings. Then they caught sight of her brother and locked in on him.

Fury rose up in her and she threw a series of hexes at the nearest wizard. Distracted by Hadrian, the Deatheaters had been taken by surprise when all seven students worked together to incapacitate them. It was a quick scuffle.

At the end of it, Fred suggested that they expose their faces and Dark Marks so that they wouldn’t be able to escape punishment. Heather felt vaguely disconcerted by how familiar some of their faces looked. She wondered which of their schoolmates were the children of these Deatheaters. After making sure they were trapped under layers of binding and stunning spells, they moved on.

Upon reaching the campsite, they quickly crossed the border of the wards. The area around their tents was relatively safer, with Bill’s mild misdirection and protection wards.

“Anyone here knows anything about warding?” Heather asked. Stronger protections would be needed if Deatheaters stumbled across this place. As it was, the wards would only hold off muggles and weaker wizards.

Cedric stepped forward. “I’ve read about some stuff.”

Tentatively, Hermione said, “I only know some theory, mostly from Ancient Runes. I haven’t actually set up any before.”

Heather nodded. Good, she could work with three. A powerful number. “Come on, I know this triangular shield we can set up.” She asked the others to watch out for danger while she told Cedric and Hermione how to set it up.

Standing at three equidistant points around the borders of the campsite, they each did their own part to build the ward. When she felt Hermione falter slightly, Heather quickly fed in more magic for her. Not that the other witch was weak, but she did have less magic.

When they were finally done, a translucent white wall formed around them. As the name suggested, the ward was triangular. The good thing about this ward was that it was only one-way, meaning they could still shoot spells outwards.

Heather saw Hermione collapse onto a chair after finishing the warding and even Cedric looked rather peaky. Rolling her shoulders, she sat down tiredly. Maybe she had put too much magic into the shield, but the more magic pumped in, the stronger it was. It was better to be safe than sorry.

With the ward up around them, everyone relaxed slightly and sat around the campfire. Heather gratefully accepted the water and sandwich Hadrian handed to her. Using too much magic always made her ravenous.

“Whoa, Heather, where did you even read about this? I’m a year older and I haven’t even heard of it!” Cedric said.

Hermione looked up at the comment and stared curiously at her. It seemed even magical exhaustion wasn’t enough of a deterrence in her quest for knowledge.

“I read up a lot about protective warding and shields when I was setting up my and Hadrian’s new home.”

“Whoa,” Cedric repeated.

Suddenly, Fred and George wrapped their arms around her. “And, no, you can’t have her. She’s ours!”

“Actually, she’s mine,” Hadrian cut in, shoving the twins away.

“Boys, no need to fight,” Heather said dryly. “I’m Rian’s, hands down.”

Hadrian made a triumphant sound and smiled smugly at the pouting twins.

“Err, guys? Sorry to break up this love fest, but there’s someone standing over there,” Ron pointed out.

They all turned to stare at the possible intruder. The person stood a fair bit away, so they looked indistinct. All Heather could tell was that they were short – very short. They were also pointing their wand towards the sky. Warily, Heather trained her own wand at the person, ready to fire at the slightest sign of hostility.

She watched, tense, as a beam of spell-light burst from the wand and shot towards the sky. A cry for back-up, maybe? She was sort of right; in a sickening way. The Dark Lord’s sigil bloomed like an insidious flower in the evening sky. When she finally tore her horrified gaze from the Dark Mark, the person who had cast it was gone.

Heather stiffened when she heard the characteristic cracking sounds of apparition. Multiple people appeared in the clearing, the fading evening light not helping at all to identify them.

“Prepare yourselves,” Cedric warned everyone. Despite his obvious tiredness, he got to his feet, wand at the ready. In her peripheral view, she saw Fred and George gently push Hermione back down as she made to follow Cedric’s example. Heather shook her head at her. While her determination was admirable, the young witch wasn’t ready to cast even a _Lumos_ right now.

The shadowy figures approached warily, clearly hesitant about the prism of light shielding the camp. As they got closer, the glow of the ward finally shed some light (no pun intended) on their identities.

“Dad! Bill! Charlie!” Ron cried as he recognised the wizards. Accompanying them was an unfamiliar man.

Mr Weasley’s worn features displayed absolute relief as he looked at them. “You’re all okay! Everyone here?”

“Yes. Cedric, Fred, George, Ron, Hermione, Hadrian and I are all present,” Heather assured.

“Who’s the one who cast the Dark Mark into the sky?” the stranger demanded viciously. He advanced on them, but was repelled by the ward. Heather glared at the man in distrust. The ward worked by sensing intent. This man meant them harm.

“Mr Crouch,” Mr Weasley said appeasingly, “it couldn’t possibly be them. They’re merely children!”

“These _children_ ,” Mr Crouch sneered, “were able to cast a Level 4 ward spell, weren’t they? Who knows what else they’re capable of!”

In an aside, Bill muttered to himself, “Level 5, more like,” as he inspected the walls. His father shot him a disapproving glance. Fortunately, the livid Mr Crouch hadn’t heard him.

“Wands out, you lot! When I find out who did it…” he trailed off warningly. After a series of _Priori Incantato_ which bore no leads, he reluctantly backed off. With a pinched expression, he asked them whether they had seen anything suspicious. Each of them said the same thing; a short figure cast the spell several feet from the campsite.

After a few more rounds of questioning wherein they told the adults about everything (including the bunch of Deatheaters they had subdued), they were finally let off.

“Heather?” her brother whispered almost inaudibly as they were waiting for Sirius to come back to the camp.

“What is it?” she asked, giving any indication that Rian had spoken. Mr Crouch’s gaze was still trained suspiciously on them.

“Someone tried to steal my wand. Before the whole thing happened. Only the wand holster you gave me stopped them.”

Frowning as she stared at the campfire, she asked, “Did you see who it was?”

“They disappeared quickly after realising the holster was thief-proof.” He hesitated before adding, “…All I know is that they were very short.” _Like the person who made the Dark Mark._

Heather had the ominous feeling that the next year wouldn’t be the quiet year she always hoped for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yay, I can finally add the Hadrian/Cedric tag. Well, they're not actually there yet, but it'll happen in the next school year. Plenty of development for them because of the Triwizard. Sorry for anyone who doesn't like the pairing. There will be quite a few scenes between them, but you can mostly skip them if you want.
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](https://lunarlooroo.tumblr.com)!


	52. Haunting Memories

The Hogwarts Express roared to life with a piercing whistle. Heather waved goodbye, chuckling when she saw Sirius jumping and waving his arms wildly. He’d been practically despondent when she and Rian left to board the train. She understood, of course. The summer was too short a reunion for his twelve-year separation. He’d made the most of it, taking them on frequent trips or inviting himself over to the Burrow while they were there.

Often, Professor Lupin had accompanied him and they would tell them numerous tales about their parents. The Professor (or Remus, as he’d asked to be called) had resigned at the end of the year due to the immense fatigue of having to cope with both his furry problem and the demanding job. It had been Sirius who persuaded him to do so. The main draw of the job had been the free Wolfsbane Professor Snape provided. Since Heather could actually brew the highly complex potion, it wasn’t a necessity anymore. She agreed to brew it for Remus, provided Sirius bought the ingredients since they were restricted. Admittedly, she also agreed because she was aware of the heavy workload her Head of House had. This would free him of the additional duty.

Unfortunately, this left the DADA post open again. The first competent teacher they had had left. She just hoped Remus had set the bar for the future. If anything, the events of the Quidditch World Cup proved that they would need all the training they could get in defending themselves. She had the feeling that that wouldn’t be the end of things. Voldemort was somehow emerging again. The time of relative peace was coming to an end.

Then there were all the cryptic comments the adults made about something happening in school this year. All she knew was that an exciting event would be held and that the Ministry was involved.

Someway, somehow, she _knew_ that Hadrian would get himself tangled up in it, willingly or not. Such was his luck. They just couldn’t catch a break, could they?

~~~

Heather glanced at the staff table as she ate her meal. She couldn’t spy any new faces. Had the Headmaster not managed to find a new DADA teacher? She nodded as she caught Professor Snape’s gaze, smiling when he subtly returned the gesture. An odd flutter of warmth had her turning away quickly. Shaking the feeling off, she turned towards the Gryffindor table. As usual, Fred and George were whispering deviously amongst themselves. She’d have to make sure they didn’t go overboard with whatever mischief they were planning. Her gaze drifted to Hadrian, nodding in satisfaction when she saw that he was eating properly. The less she said about Ron’s dining etiquette, the better. Hermione, as usual, was taking the occasional bite of food while she read a thick tome.

Heather knew that Hermione had the tendency to neglect herself in the pursuit of academics. She was absolutely brilliant, but she’d coped poorly with her twelve subjects last year. Apparently, she’d been employing a time turner to attend all her classes! Imagine that! Professor McGonagall must have pretty good connections to pull _that_ off. Fortunately, Heather had managed to persuade her to tone down a little. She had eventually dropped Muggle Studies and Divination.

Heather switched her attention to Professor Dumbledore when he stood to speak. He spouted the usual warnings about the Forbidden Forest and Mr Filch’s list of restricted items. She was amused when he mentioned a few objects that she and FredGeorge had created. Then, he dropped a shocking piece of news. No Quidditch? She could hear Ron’s loud complaints from here.

Suddenly, the doors to the Great Hall slammed open. Gripping her wand, she turned, spells at the tip of her tongue. A bizarre-looking man stood at the doors. Dressed in tattered black robes, he skulked towards the staff table. As he moved closer, Heather saw that one of his eyes was replaced by a metal one. It rotated warily about the room, independent of the other one. It made for a creepy effect.  The Headmaster stood and welcomed the man warmly, offering him a drink which he refused. Instead, the man withdrew a canteen and drank deeply from it.

It struck her that this man was Alastor ‘Mad-Eye’ Moody, retired Auror. He was renowned for having the highest arrest rate of criminals. Despite (or because of) his extreme paranoia, he had been one of the best on the force.

_Two_ capable DADA teachers in a row. Must be a record.

“As I was saying,” Headmaster Dumbledore continued, “I am pleased to announce that the Triwizard Tournament will be held in Hogwarts this year!”

“You’re kidding!” George shouted. Heather rolled her eyes as her friend flushed in embarrassment before settling down.

“No, Mr Weasley, I am assuredly not kidding,” the Headmaster said kindly. He then proceeded to give a brief history of the tournament. As Heather listened on, her thoughts turned darker and darker. _Death toll?_ _Dangerous trials?_ What kind of school approved of an event like this?

‘The same that hides the Philosopher’s Stone and a basilisk within its bowels,’ she thought sardonically.

“However, all the heads of the participating schools and the Ministry of Magic have decided that only those seventeen and above may be allowed to enter the competition. I will personally see to it that no underaged participants enter it.”

Heather heaved a sigh of relief, a stark contrast to the belligerent expressions on her best friends’ faces. She didn’t see the appeal of willingly putting their lives on the line for a bit of recognition. The age restriction was the only intelligent thing about the whole tournament. Knowing the twins, they’d try their luck with it anyway.

If other people wanted to risk their lives for this crazy venture, let them. At least the excitement would be off her and Hadrian for once.

She shouldn’t have spoken so soon.

~~~

After a busy morning being asked to help with some last-minute holiday work, Heather was finally free of her little snakes to eat a quick breakfast. She had no time to catch up with her brother and friends before rushing off to her first class, Arithmancy. She would nag her younger housemates for putting their work off later. Only Astoria – the sweet thing – had managed to finish all her homework. To be fair to the others, the pre-reading and essay that Professor Moody had assigned _was_ rather challenging. Instead of putting her off, though, it only served to raise her expectations of his lessons.

She watched the clock throughout the day, anticipating the DADA lesson she had at the end of the day. The moment the bell rang, she dashed out of Herbology, Fred and George in tow.

“Err, Heather, we’re-” George said.

“-supposed to run _away_ from-” Fred continued.

“-the mad old Auror,” they said together.

“Only criminals run from the law enforcement,” she retorted, finally stopping outside the classroom.

“Well put, Potter!” the gravelly voice of Professor Moody said. He emerged from the room, opening the door wider for them to enter. Still a little surprised at his sudden appearance, she took a while to gather herself before dragging her friends in.

“Good afternoon Professor Moody.” It never hurt to be polite. She nudged Fred sharply, prompting to give their own greetings.

“A little early, aren’t you?” the man commented gruffly.

“Well-”

“None of that!” he cut in. “You should never be early or late. Only exactly on time! Too easy for enemies to intercept you otherwise! Remember, CONSTANT VIGILANCE!”

She jumped slightly at the loud exclamation. “R-right, Professor. We’ll be on time in the future.”

The man nodded briskly and walked back to his desk.

“Methinks his eye’s not the only thing that’s mad,” George whispered. His twin nodded and twirled his finger near his temple in the universal sign of insanity.

“Shh, he’ll hear you!” She gave them warning looks and pulled them to seats in the middle of the classroom. “You two had better take your classes seriously. The NEWT syllabus is much tougher than the OWLs.”

They sighed in tandem, giving each other commiserating looks.

“How have we not corrupted her already?”

“It’s the Potter stubbornness. Plus the Slytherin pig-headedness.”

“Hush, you two. He’s starting!” While they’d been bantering, the class had gradually filled with the other students who had managed to get into the NEWT level class.

A hand slammed on their table, startling them. Their voices broke off and they looked up into the fearsome look Professor Moody’s eyes (err, eye and mechanical-robot-thing). “Now that I have everyone’s attention,” the wizard growled, “let’s begin.”

“This year’s syllabus will include mainly nonverbal casting. It is an important skill, especially if you want to be an Auror or get a mastery in Defence. Proficient casters don’t just broadcast all their spells; that would just disadvantage them. You there!” he turned to a suddenly nervous Gryff. “Explain why!”

Hesitantly, Lee Jordan said, “B-because it gives your opponent the chance to think of a counter spell.”

“Good, 2 points to Gryffindor.” The man smirked in approval. “We will also be covering a few new hexes and curses. You will have the chance to test these out during practice duels. I will teach you about some Dark creatures like inferi and dementors. First of all, however,” a wild gleam entered his eye(s), “we will be learning the Unforgivables.” He spun quickly and shot a rapid spell at a mouse on his desk.

Heather paled dramatically. She froze in place, staring at the white mouse on the desk. Fighting her nausea, trying to remain upright. _Green light, a body falls to the floor._

“Potter! Tell me what spell that was,” Professor Moody demanded. He looked expectantly at her, unaware of his casual cruelty. Or was he?

Not turning away from the dead rodent, she managed to work her vocal chords. “The Killing Curse.” She winced inwardly at the blankness in her voice. In her peripheral vision, she saw her friends turn to her in worry at the odd tone.

The rest of the lesson passed in a blur. Her eyes never strayed from the furry body. If asked about what happened during the class, Heather wouldn’t have been able to answer. Not even about what she herself was thinking. All she knew was a dull void.

“-ather. _Heather!”_ A sharp shake of her shoulders jolted her out of her headspace. She looked blurrily at Fred and George. “Come on, lesson’s over. Let’s go for dinner.”

“Right,” she heard herself say faintly. Mechanically, she packed her things up. An arm went around her waist, supporting her weight. Oh, she’d been hunched forward dangerously. _That’s_ why the table had seemed closer than usual. “Thanks, George.”

Fred looked worriedly at his friend. _Heather_ _had just called him George_. Not even in total darkness had she ever mixed them up. They still didn’t know how she did that, but the point was, she _never_ mistook them. Something was up. Obviously, the lesson on the Killing Curse was the cause. She’d been so excited for DADA, and now…

“Let’s get you to Madam Pomfrey, okay Heather?” Not pausing to wait for the answer that wouldn’t come, he led her in the direction of the infirmary, letting George carry her bag.

George bit his lip, watching his brother practically support all of Heather’s weight. The scary thing was, she was still conscious. Her eyes were open, if rather dilated. But they were lifeless, vacant. Maybe it would be better if Fred just carried her.

As soon as he thought it, his brother nodded in agreement and did just so. He did it with ease; she was as light as a feather. They picked up their pace. Heather hadn’t responded at all even at the change in position. Normally, she would have objected fiercely to being treated like she was delicate. The thing was, she looked _really_ delicate right now.

Near the infirmary, they turned the corner and narrowly missed a collision with someone. Catching sight of the dark robes, they sighed. Of all the rotten luck, who was it they had to meet? They looked up, already knowing whose cheery visage they would see.

“What are you two doing?” a sneering voice demanded.

Yay, _Snape_.

“Professor, we were just going to the infirmary,” George said, walking forwards. Hopefully, Fred would be able to sidestep Snape without him noticing.

And then Hagrid’s blast-ended skrewts would fly.

“What did you do to Miss Potter?!” he hissed, looking ready to take points, hex and murder. Maybe not in that order, either.

“Look, Professor, can we just get Heather to the infirmary first?” Fred said, frustrated.

“We’ll answer your questions then. And _only_ then,” George stated firmly.

Glaring, the man stepped aside to let them pass so he could stalk them from behind.

‘Paranoid bastard,’ Fred and his brother thought together. They looked at each other, managing to stifle their amused snorts.

Looking down to the girl in his arms, Fred sobered. They walked faster, hurrying through the door to the hospital wing.

After passing Heather into Madam Pomfrey’s capable hands, they turned back to the livid Potions Professor. They were _so_ not looking forward to this confronta- _conversation_ at all.

“What. Happened,” the man forced out quietly. See that was the thing with the old bat. When he shouted and raged, you feared for your life. Unlike when he got quiet. Oh no, when that happened, you didn’t fear for your life. _That_ was when dying was a blessed mercy compared to what he would do to you.

“Heather’s been like that since DADA. Professor Moody demonstrated the Killing Curse today. She reacted…badly to it,” Fred said. They daren’t try their usual confusing speech when the Professor was in such a mood. Heck, they hardly did it when he was in a good mood. Or whenever Heather said he was in a good mood. They took her word for it.

The look in the man’s eyes now promised murder, though they were grateful to note that it was no longer directed at them. Professor Moody could handle himself. Probably. Maybe.

“That will be all. Go for dinner,” Snape ordered.

Ignoring their screaming instincts, they said as one, “No.”

At his thunderous expression, George hurried to add, “We’d like to stay with Heather. We’re not hungry anyway.” They’d just sneak to the kitchens later.

“Oh, let the boys stay, Severus. It’d do the poor dear good to have familiar faces when she wakes. I imagine she’ll be disoriented,” Madam Pomfrey said chidingly.

They hid their entertainment at seeing their frightening Potions Professor obey the caring matron. Apparently, Poppy Pomfrey wasn’t a force to be trifled with.

They settled down in either side of their best friend’s bed, taking up the roles of two fierce guards. Of course, in comparison to the other person in the room, they looked about as threatening as pixies. They were surprised to see the man join them in their vigil. Sure, he was actually reading some parchment or whatever, but the perplexed glances the Mediwitch gave him were telling.

Fine, they knew now what Heather meant when she said he was good to the Slytherins. Didn’t mean he wasn’t still a git.

Professor Snape ‘kindly’ allowed them to stay until curfew, before promptly banishing them. Unfortunately, Heather didn’t wake before they left. They were Gryffs, but they weren’t idiots, contrary to popular belief. Defying the man once was enough. It’d only worked because of Madam Pomfrey’s intervention anyway.

~~~

Only the first day of term and the girl was in the infirmary. Granted, it wasn’t her fault at all. Severus was going to strangle the paranoid old bastard. Acclaimed Auror Alastor may be, but a teacher he was not. He himself didn’t have much high ground to stand on, but at least he could claim to never have frightened his students enough to land them in a practically comatose state! Did the man not have enough tact in that mad brain of his, or had the contraption in his socket knocked it out of him? Anyone in Wizarding Britain who had not been living under a rock the past thirteen years would know about the Potters’ experience with the Killing Curse! It would be obvious that Heather Lyra would fear it, knowing her parents had succumbed to it.

“Severus, you should be getting back to your quarters, it’s late,” Poppy said.

He looked up from the parchment in his hands. “As soon as I make sense of this mess you call an organised list. No wonder this place is always understocked.”

She gave him a knowing glance. “That’s never troubled you before.”

“Clearly, I underestimated the chaos that runs rampant here.”

She sighed, “Of course, Severus,” before leaving for her own adjoining quarters.

Once he was alone with the girl, he allowed himself to study her. She looked pale, more so because of the weak moonlight streaming in through the windows.  Her face was scrunched up in distress, body tensed. What visions plagued her? Was it the dying screams of her parents as green light engulfed them? Or was it the unnamed horrors of her childhood? Heather Lyra had much to feed her night terrors.

Caught up in his morbid thoughts as he was, he almost failed to notice the twitching of her eyelids – a signal of her awakening. She jerked to wakefulness, all but launching herself out of the bed. Panting heavily, she clutched at her neck- no, a necklace she wore that had an odd pointed pendant.

All this he observed in the corner of his eyes, keeping his gaze fixed on the stocklist he held and writing noisily with his quill. He waited for the girl to notice him first; he still recalled the last time he had startled her when she was agitated.

“Professor Snape?” she asked roughly. Swallowing dryly, she looked to the bedside table for the glass of water Poppy always left for her patients and took several careful sips.

“How are you feeling, Miss Potter?” Probably much better, despite the shadows under her eyes and slight tremble in her hands. If the twin menaces could be believed, she had steadily become less responsive since the first Unforgivable was cast, descending slowly but surely into a state of absolute catatonia. At the very least, she now had life in her eyes.

“Fine,” she said shortly. As expected. When was she ever _not_ ‘fine’?

“Your Weasleys were so insane with worry that they were almost _well-behaved_.”

That teased a smile out of her – a faint one, but still discernible. “They’re just protective. Have you met their mother? They never stood a chance.”

Well enough for witty repartee. She would be fine, then. “Protective enough to face off against the feared vampire of the dungeons?”

“Well, they’re also Gryffindors,” she returned, smirking slightly.                            

“Now _that_ I can believe.”

To his immense relief – and he tucked _that_ away to examine later – Heather Lyra laughed at that. “Thank you, Professor. I needed a good laugh after what happened today.” Pausing slightly, she said, “I assume Fred and George told you what happened?”

He nodded. “If necessary, you may be excused from further lessons on that particular topic.” Logically, he knew that she had to get over this extreme reaction quickly. Any indiscriminate Killing Curse and she was as good as hit. However, the wan features he looked at now made him want to storm up to Alastor and demand he cease and desist with any such lessons. Or better yet, sequester her in his personal lab for a brewing session. Anything to erase that haunted look in her green eyes.

Frustratingly, unwaveringly, _bravely_ , she shook her head ‘no’. “I’ll get over it.”

He didn’t doubt she would. Even if she had to tear herself apart into emotional tatters. And that was what worried him.

Unaccustomed to providing comfort, he asked haltingly, “Would you like to talk about it?”

He recognised the stubborn set of her mouth, firmer than Lily’s had ever been. Sitting placidly, he waited for her to consider his offer. It would do no good to browbeat her into it. It wouldn’t work. Not when she was more obstinate than even her mother.

She stared deeply into his eyes. Seeming to look for something. What she found, he did not know, but it prompted her to speak.

“I can see thestrals.”

Whatever he had been expecting, it was not that. His mind blanked as the implications sunk in. Surely not. Perhaps… “After your first year, with Quirrell?” he asked, not-quite desperately.

Smiling sadly, she shook her head. “Before that. If I’d been near one after 31 October 1981, I would have seen it.”

Dear Salazar. That… That meant… “No.”

“Yes. I was there in the nursery that night. Saw the entire thing happening. I was in the wardrobe.” Her smile became a bitter thing, so unsuited to her young features. “The end of my innocence occurred in a wardrobe. What was left of it slowly died in a cupboard,” she whispered, before a sardonic chuckle escaped her lips.

_Cupboard?_ No, he would ponder that odd statement later. “You saw?” he choked out.

“Everything,” she whispered. “Hadrian hears our mother’s screams before she died only when he’s near dementors.” Her gaze changed, turning into something far-off and ancient. “I’m glad for him. _I… I_ remember what she said – her last words – with perfect clarity. ‘ _Not my baby. No, take me instead.’_ I remember the way the green light hit her, the way she collapsed. I remember the way she _died_.”

He had no words to speak in response to this horrifying revelation. A child of merely three years, witness to such evil. His face must have given away some of his thoughts, because she seemed to snap out of her trance-like state.

“I’m sorry.” Her face crumpled in worry, reaching her hand out towards him. “Are you alright?”

Was _he_ alright? He didn’t deserve her concern. His own actions had wrought all this. All the misery and grief in this girl, aged before her time. “It is I who should be asking that.”

Her expression softened and she shook her head lightly. “You loved her too, didn’t you?” she said gently.

He jerked, startled, at the words. Stared into the emerald depths filled with understanding. He stood abruptly, muttered some drivel about getting some rest, and strode out.

He steadfastly refused to think of it as escaping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Triwizard Tournament. That means Yule Ball! Anyone wanna guess who Heather's date is gonna be?
> 
> Also, you can come find me on [Tumblr](https://lunarlooroo.tumblr.com)!


	53. Mind Over Matter

“For the last time, guys, I’m totally fine now!”

Since her episode that day in DADA, Fred and George had been completely unbearable. They shot glances at her every few seconds, offered to carry her bag – despite that it was charmed feather-light – and followed her everywhere, even to the _library_. All of the hovering was driving her nuts, not to even mention what her _brother_ had been doing since he found out. She was getting déjà vu to the summer after her third year.

She knew that they were just worried about her, but their behaviour wasn’t helping in the slightest!

“You sure Heather?” George asked.

“We have Defence tomorrow,” Fred added.

“Yes, I was caught off guard last time. I’ll be better prepared if Professor Moody does it again.” She sighed. “Now will you let me eat my dinner? It’s Wednesday.”

Surprisingly, Fred and George acquiesced and returned to their own table without any further comment. Not even a scowl at the mention of their Potions Professor. Out of character for them, but it pleased her that perhaps they were leaving their distaste for Professor Snape behind.

After finishing her meal, she made her way to his office. She hesitated at the door, remembering their last encounter. Her memory of it was hazy – she’d still been a little out of it – but she recalled most of what she’d said. And the way he’d all but run out.

Well, here went nothing… She knocked on the door. A longer pause than usual, before he called for her to enter. She didn’t think the unwillingness in his voice was imagined. Would Professor Snape cease their weekly meetings now? A sharp pain stabbed her heart.

“Professor Snape,” she greeted carefully. His face didn’t give anything away, maintained in a neutral look.

“Miss Potter. We will not be having a potions tutorial today.”

Her cautious hope was crushed. He wanted to stop. No more witty banter over a boiling cauldron. No more teasing of reluctant smiles out of the stoic man. Her expression crumpled before she could help it. Forcefully schooling her features, she nodded once. “I understand, sir.” She made to turn around.

“Oh for- Take a seat, Miss Potter!” the Professor said in annoyance.

She looked up. “Professor?”

“I will not repeat myself.”

Right. Seat. She quickly sat in her usual chair (Would it continue to be hers?) and dared a glance at the man.

“We will not be doing potions today as I have something else on the agenda,” he explained.

Oh. “I thought, what I said the other day-”

“We will not be discussing that,” he cut her off curtly.

That suited her just fine. As long as he didn’t stop these sessions, they could be doing Divinations for all she cared. Not that they would; the Professor _abhorred_ the subject.

“You are still having nightmares, are you not?” She nodded. “That is because your memories of past events run unchecked in your mind. While you may be able to _mostly_ ,” he gave her a pointed look, “avoid thinking of them while conscious, your mind becomes vulnerable while you are asleep. You need to train your mind. Control your memories, do not let them control you.”

How could she do that? She asked as much, curious.

“Tell me, Miss Potter. Have you heard of Occlumency?”

~~~

Heather fell backwards on her bed, closing _Mind Magickes: Occlumency and Legilimency_ with a sigh.

_“Read this book and give me your reply next Wednesday,” Professor Snape said, handing a worn hardcover book to her._

Occlumency, the art of protecting one’s mind. It served as a shield against Legilimency, which was a method to invade someone’s mind. In her case, however, she was to learn how to compartmentalise and, if needed, block her emotions and memories from overwhelming her. Was that why Professor Snape was so self-possessed; he occluded his feelings?

It was the perfect way for her to gain control over herself. Experienced Occlumentes (which Professor Snape assured her was the correct plural form of Occlumens, not Occlumenses) could maintain their shields subconsciously, even while they slept. Her nightly terrors would stop. She would finally be able to sleep peacefully.

Only one thing gave her pause. Training in Occlumency involved defending against a Legilimens. She wouldn’t kid herself by thinking that her mind could stand against a _Legilimens_ attack right now. Which meant some of her most deeply buried memories and thoughts would be seen.

She huffed and sat up again, summoning a quill and parchment as she did so. Perhaps she needed another opinion on this. She and Bill had struck up something of a camaraderie after the Quidditch Cup. He had been pretty impressed with the ward she had used that day, and offered a few tips and his owl address. He could probably offer some insight in this situation.

~~~

_Dear Bill,_

_How are you doing? Thanks again for the books you sent earlier. I’ve started on_ Protections of Ancient Egypt _and it has been fascinating so far. I’ve tried out a few of the wards in there and I’m pretty impressed. Those Egyptians were really creative. And brutal. Don’t worry, Fred and George were around when I tried them. Now I’m worried about what they could pull off with those in their repertoire._

_I was just wondering if you knew anything about Occlumency and Mind Magic? That is to say, do you think it would be a useful skill to learn? I recently read about it and it seemed rather interesting._

_Regards, Heather_

_P.S. I also included 3 phials of a modified Neutralising Solution you mentioned in your earlier letter. It was pretty fun to brew. Hope they help with your fungal problem. Could you tell me how it compares with the store-bought you tried to use? It would really help with the research I’m doing._

~~~

_Hey Heather,_

_Glad to hear from you! How’re your NEWT classes treating you? Bet you’re breezing through them. Thanks for the potion you sent! They were much better than the ones I got from the shop and infinitely better than anything I could’ve brewed. Sometimes I wonder how I managed to pass Potions. Now I can finally get past that and into the tomb room._

_Still can’t believe you’ve actually started a research project while still in school. And on a new potions technique too. Well, as promised, your potion worked about twice as fast and held off the fungus’ regeneration by about 10 minutes longer. Enough for me to dart through the room and not get poisoned to death, which is good news. Maybe you could think about making the potion thinner, if that’s possible. It would be easier to spritz._

_Now, onto Occlumency. Simultaneously intimidated and amazed at what kind of reading you do. Not a common branch of magic, there. I would say it’s a good skill to have, if you can find a teacher you can trust. There aren’t many people out there who know Mind Magic, or would admit to know it. I would offer myself, but one, we’re too far apart and two, I’m barely passable in Legilimency myself. If you do find someone trustworthy enough, I say go for it. I think you would be disciplined enough to be a natural at it._

_Bill_

_P.S. The Guild just forced a newbie onto me to apprentice. Ugh, those damned bylaws. I’ve spent one day with him and I already know he’s going to be a disaster. Too cocky and not nearly observant enough. Hopefully a good old curse in the next tomb we inspect will teach him the art of humility._

~~~

Heather set the letter down, stroking Hedwig thoughtfully. Bill had offered his own opinion and she had read Professor Snape’s book enough to know that it was something she wanted to learn.

The question now was: did she trust Professor Snape?

~~~

“I accept.”

Professor Snape stared right into her eyes. It occurred to her that every time he’d done that, he could have had a peek into her thoughts. She switched her gaze to his forehead instead.

He looked at her approvingly. “You have read the book.” Nodding, she held it out to return to him. Instead of taking it, however, he said, “Keep it; you will need to refer back to it as you progress. Have you been meditating?”

“Yes, every night before bed. It’s very relaxing.” While her nightmares hadn’t stopped, they weren’t as vivid as before.

“Good, I will now cast _Legilimens_ on you to show you how it feels to have your mind invaded.” Her hesitance must have shown, because he added, almost gently, “Whatever I see will be kept in the strictest of confidences, I assure you. I will begin with a light scan of your surface thoughts.”

He stared silently into her eyes again. She wasn’t fooled, she knew any accomplished Legilimens could do the spell wordlessly. After a while of not feeling anything, she was beginning to have her doubts.

“I cast the spell a minute ago.”

“I didn’t feel anything!”

“As is typical of a superficial _Legilimens_. People untrained in the mind arts do not even notice when their surface thoughts are being invaded. You are very guarded, I could only discern your emotions and not thoughts. To see more, I would have to use the full spell.”

“But those with experience can sense it?” It chilled her to think that anyone could have invaded her thoughts like that without her even knowing.

“To varying degrees, depending on the person’s abilities.”

“What about a full-scale _Legilimens_? How would that feel?”

“If done with finesse, much the same way as a partial spell. Many wizards, however, simply use brute force to force their way in, which causes severe pain. We will be focussing on the partial spell first to sensitise your mind to the spell without weakening it.”

Professor Snape continued to wordlessly cast the spell at Heather at random intervals. By the time for her to go, she thought she could feel a slight tickle whenever it happened.

“Thank you for your help, sir,” she said sincerely. Then, with a teasing smile, added, “I’d always wondered about you reading our minds in class.”

Mockingly, he replied, “The mind is not a book, to be opened at will and examined at leisure. Thoughts are not etched on the inside of skulls, to be perused by an invader. The mind is a complex and many-layered thing.” He then smirked sardonically. “That being said, it is in my experience that the adolescent mind cannot claim to be very complex at all.”

~~~

As it turned out, Heather’s worries about DADA lessons had been for nought. Professor Moody made no further ventures into the Unforgivables, diving straight into nonverbal casting instead. It was with immense relief that she participated fully in the class. Despite her bravado in front of her friends and brother, even she didn’t know how she’d react if she saw another Killing Curse be cast.

She was also extremely glad that she could finally perform wordless spells without drawing undue attention. While a difficult skill to master, as one of the top students, it wasn’t unexpected for her to ‘learn’ it so quickly. Doing it before being officially taught in classes, however, would have been very suspicious indeed. Hadrian had been so envious when she told him. He disliked stifling his abilities.

Speaking of her brother…

“Are you listening, Heather?”

She blinked, pushing her thoughts back. “Yeah. You were talking about your lessons?”

“Yeah, Transfiguration’s been a blast. I was thinking of learning the Animagus transformation. Like Papa, you know?”

Smiling indulgently, she suggested, “Why not ask Sirius? I’m sure he’d give you some pointers.”

He lit up at the idea. “Why didn’t I think of that? Yeah, I’ll owl Sirius tonight. Could I borrow Hedwig?”

“Sure. She’s not making a delivery right now. How about your other classes? Potions?”

Hadrian’s face fell. “Err,” he hemmed. “As usual…”

Narrowing her eyes suspiciously, Heather thought about his odd reaction. “What-”

“Professor Moody Imperioed me in class today!” Rian blurted out, before wincing.

Shocked, she stared blankly. “Excuse me?!”

“Seems like sixth years aren’t the only ones getting a crash course in Unforgivables,” he said sheepishly.

“He used an Unforgivable on a student! That’s…well, unforgivable!” She couldn’t believe the man! He shouldn’t be allowed near children!

“Students,” Rian corrected. “He used it on the whole class.”

“The nerve of that man!”

Bracing himself, he added, “Good news is, I can resist it!” He grinned weakly. “Tadaa…”

“Don’t try to make light of-” She stopped and processed his last statement. “Resist it? The Imperius? The curse that places the victim under the caster’s _complete_ control?”

Her brother nodded, a hint of pride in his eyes. “I didn’t want to be controlled, so kind of pushed the command away.” Sighing, she let go of her anger in a large exhale.

“Only you,” she said, almost disbelieving. Then she laughed. “Amazing. Great job.”  She ruffled his already messy hair affectionately. “I’m proud of you.” He beamed adorably at her praise. “Your Gryffindor stubbornness really knows no bounds, to stop even the _Imperio_!”

Heather giggled as Hadrian sputtered in indignation.

~~~

Heather felt a presence behind her. Not looking up from her book on modern warding – another which Bill had lent her – she said, “Yes, Daphne?”

The witch came into view sitting gracefully in the seat across from her. She pouted slightly. “How do you do that?”

“Magic,” was her helpful reply.

The younger girl shook her head, used to Heather’s infuriating responses. “No twin terrors today?”

“They’ve stopped tailing me, thank Salazar. And where is _your_ shadow?”

“Astoria’s bringing some friends.” The pureblood’s usual cold demeanour warmed minutely at the mention of her beloved sister.

“More little snakes?” Heather groaned. “I should start charging for my services.” It was an empty threat and Daphne knew it. Even if Heather wasn’t a very social person, teaching was one setting where she tolerated being surrounded by people. Not to mention she usually couldn’t say no to children.

As such, the Greengrass heiress didn’t grace the statement with a reply. “I have an essay on the applications and modifications of disillusionment spells.” That was about as close to a request for help as the dignified pureblood would go when she knew anyone could overhear.

Amused, Heather humoured the girl’s sense of pride and explained what she knew about the spell.

It was a while later that shy little Astoria approached them with a bevy of her Slyth yearmates trailing behind. Heather smiled at them, chuckling when a few of them ducked their heads in embarrassment.

One particularly brave boy stared wide-eyed at her. “You’re Heather Potter.”

She inclined her head. “Indeed, it seems I am. And who are you?”

Flushing, Astoria quickly introduced everyone and they took their seats at the table. Heather almost laughed when the same boy whispered, “I can’t believe you weren’t lying when you said you knew _the_ Heather Potter!”

“I’d really like to know why you’re all so amazed,” she said wryly. Usually, it was her brother that got all these starry-eyed looks. The Boy-Who-Lived nonsense and all that.

“Are you kidding?” the boy, one Anthony Pucey, exclaimed too loudly. He settled down when Madam Pince gave their group the evil eye. Whispering, he continued, “You’re the top student in your year, and even better than some of the upper years, apparently. Did you really beat all your Slytherin yearmates with a single spell when you were a _first year_?”

Grimacing a little, she asked, “Where did you hear that?” That little incident with the mass _Stupefy._ Most of the snakes had backed off after that.

“So it _is_ true! My brother told me,” he said, awed. In fact, the rest of the group were giving her similar looks, even the Greengrass sisters.

Ahh. “Pucey,” she hummed, “as in Adrian Pucey?” He had been one of the boys who mostly hung back in the confrontation. He’d never outright targeted her either.

“Yep, that’s my brother. He also said you were the best seeker the school ever saw! Even better than your brother! Why aren’t you on the team?”

“Yeah, I’ve seen her matches,” Daphne added. “She beat all the others easily!”

Heather shot her a betrayed look. Add fuel to the fire, why not? She didn’t really want the lot of them to idolise her. Even if they looked adorable, all wide-eyed like that.

“S-speaking of seekers, the announcement about Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students is out. I hear Viktor Krum will be coming as well,” Astoria – bless the girl – said quietly. Heather gave the blonde a grateful look.

The second years, distracted, started discussing, or rather, raving about, Krum’s Quidditch successes. Daphne gave her a knowing smirk, but didn’t point out the distraction.

Heather watched over the excited group of little snakes. She knew that if a non-Slytherin were around, their walls would be erected instantly. It was a pity; children should enjoy their innocence while they could. She was considered an oddity in that she had close friends in another house.

It would be great if everyone else could see this scene now. Slytherins weren’t the heartless and cruel people they were perceived to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't resist adding the canon quote 'the mind is not a book...'. Just sounds so elegant! And yay, Occlumency lessons! Told you I'd have a way to help Heather overcome this problem.
> 
> And many of you tried to guess Heather's date for the Yule Ball. Some of you even guessed correctly, but I won't tell you who! Some of the guesses were pretty interesting though... No, unfortunately it can't be Severus, much as I (and Heather and Sev) would want to.
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](https://lunarlooroo.tumblr.com)!


	54. A Most Demanding Cup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't really like how this chapter turned out, but oh well. Hopefully the following chapters will be better. As always, thanks to all of you who read this fic! Leave comments if there's anything you think is good, bad, etc.

Withholding a put-out sigh, Heather lined up with her housemates in the entrance hall. She’d been disturbed in the middle of her meditation exercise by Melinda, one of the Slytherins in her year she was actually on polite terms with. Despite her reluctance to stop, she’d remembered that the gathering was compulsory.

It was a massive waste of time. This was all just to welcome the two other prominent magic schools in Europe. Well, at least now she would stop hearing all the speculation about Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian national Quidditch team’s seeker. Even Fred and George had shown excitement about him, though not as much as Ron. Don’t get her wrong – she liked Quidditch. She just didn’t see the appeal of placing professional players on pedestals. Perhaps she was just biased. No Potions or Rune Masters were hailed as celebrities just by virtue of their occupations, after all.

The sudden buzz of excitement throughout the student body alerted Heather. She followed the students’ gazes to the sky. Flying through towards the castle was a large carriage of sorts, led by gigantic horses. They were too large to be anything but magically bred. The carriage landed a short distance from where the Gryffs were standing. Up close, the horses looked even _larger_ than expected. Someone went to unlatch the door, allowing the people inside to step out.

Suddenly, Heather understood the reason for the gargantuan horses. For the woman who stepped out of the carriage was _huge_. No, she didn’t mean that she was obese. She was probably a giantess, or at least part. And apparently the Headmistress of Beauxbatons. About a dozen of her students gracefully followed behind her. How they did that when they were obviously catching their death of cold was beyond her.

While Professor Dumbledore exchanged pleasantries with the visiting Headmistress, Heather retreated into her mind to continue meditating. It had taken her a while to learn how to do so whenever she wanted, but it had paid off in how much more focussed she was now. Professor Snape hadn’t progressed to the full _Legilimens_ yet, wanting her to be able to sense and block the partial one first.

She snapped to attention when loud murmuring filled the hall again. The students were even more excited this time, probably anticipating the arrival of Viktor Krum. She watched as a large ship emerged from the Black Lake. She wondered why they hadn’t just sailed on the water instead of beneath it. Either they wanted to avoid the notice of muggles, which disillusioning charms could have done, or they just wanted to make an impression, which was likely the case.

The Durmstrang Headmaster greeted his fellow heads of schools while his students lined up behind him in military fashion. He very loudly mentioned something about Viktor Krum and immediately, everyone’s gaze was drawn to the student behind him. A ploy to usurp attention. An obvious and badly-executed one at that, judging by the sneer on her Head of House’s face.

Finally, they were herded back into the Great Hall for dinner. Heather found a seat near the end of the Slytherin table and waited for the meal to begin. She watched as the visiting students dithered about trying to decide where to sit. Feeling someone unfamiliar approach her from behind, she tensed.

“Is this seat taken?” a heavily accented voice asked.

She looked up and up and up. This person was _tall._ This person was also Viktor Krum. “Yes, it is.”

Surprise filtered into his eyes at her refusal. Daphne had asked her to save her a seat. Heather didn’t care that this wizard was an internationally-acclaimed seeker.

“Vat about that vone?” The heavyset wizard pointed to the chair across the table from hers.

“Empty. You can have it, if you want.”

Heather felt the weight of several gazes as Krum sat opposite her. She rolled her eyes inwardly. If everyone was so fixated on Krum’s celebrity, it was no wonder that he’d chosen to sit where he wouldn’t be gawked at. She brushed off the subtle glares of her housemates. Strangely enough, Malfoy seemed to be glaring at Krum instead of her. Offended by the perceived slight, she guessed.

“Hello, I’m Heather Potter,” she said politely, extending her hand. Might as well give a decent welcome.

His gaze sharpened in recognition and she almost groaned. Had they heard about that Boy-Who-Lived nonsense all the way in Bulgaria too? Thankfully, he made no comment about it.

“Viktor Krum, a pleasure.” He took her hand, but to her shock, he didn’t shake it. He stood and bowed over her hand to kiss the back of it.

Her eyes widened briefly at the gesture. “What a gentleman,” she murmured. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that Malfoy’s glare had intensified tenfold. Peculiar.

“It is a normal custom in my school. Is it not here?” the boy asked in confusion.

She smirked wryly. “Chivalry is dead here.”

Before he could respond, Heather felt Daphne’s approach. “Krum, I’d like to introduce Daphne Greengrass, the girl who had prior claim on the seat you wanted. Daphne? Meet Viktor Krum.”

“Honestly, Heather. You’ve got to tell me how you do that one day,” Daphne said, mildly put out. Then, as if a switch had been flicked, she turned a charming smile at the Bulgarian wizard. “Nice to meet you, Viktor Krum.” She also extended a hand towards him. Krum repeated the gesture with Daphne, though she seemed to have expected it. Probably due to her Pureblood upbringing.

“Please, call me Viktor.”

She and Daphne reciprocated the offer, though Daphne had a coy gleam in her eye as she did so. Kru-Viktor seemed not to notice it – whether genuinely or by design, Heather couldn’t tell.

Sometime while they were speaking, the feast had begun. The meal was more elaborate than usual in light of the guests they had. Aside from the standard English fare, some Bulgarian and French dishes had been served as well. As Heather was loading her plate with some of the foreign food, Viktor said something.

“Heather, there is somevone vaving to you over there,” he pointed out.

Having her suspicions, she turned around. As expected, it was Ron who trying to draw her attention while Hermione tried to stop him from making a scene. She sighed and looked back to her meal. “Don’t mind him. He’s a friend of my brother’s and a huge fan of yours,” she said dryly. “My brother is too, come to think of it.” She remembered how he’d recounted the Quidditch World Cup match several times without stopping.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, Hadrian’s a seeker too. He’s on the Gryffindor team.” She smiled fondly. “He’s really great.” Seeing an odd look on Viktor’s face, she hastily added, “Not that _you_ aren’t a great player.”

“Do not vorry. I vas not offended,” he said amicably. Viktor had simply been touched by the obvious love this girl had for her brother. It was also rather amusing that she wasn’t starstruck by his fame as most girls – and some boys – were wont to.

“Heather’s a great seeker too!” Daphne said slyly. Heather gave her an exasperated look. That was the second time this week she’d said that! “Even better than her brother.”

“I haven’t played in a long time. Rian could probably beat me now,” she protested.

Ignoring her, Daphne continued, “Did you know she holds the record for most number of snitches caught in a row? She caught the snitch in every game for the two years she played!”

“Daphne!” Heather hissed. This was the Bulgarian National Team seeker she was boasting to!

“That is most impressive, Heather. Perhaps ve could have a friendly match vone day?”

“Well, I’m very out of practice. If you don’t mind that, I would be happy to. It’ll be quite the experience.” If she didn’t embarrass herself, that was.

“Next Saturday then? You have no classes, yes?”

“Sure. That’s acceptable,” Daphne said readily. Rolling her eyes, Heather nodded to show her agreement.

Foreign cuisine could be spotted among the dessert as well. She followed Viktor’s suggestion about a Bulgarian pumpkin pastry called tikvenik and didn’t regret it.

After the meal was done, Professor Dumbledore stood to make a speech. Heather listened halfheartedly as he talked about the selection process for the competitors via something called the Goblet of Fire.

Mr Filch then brought in a large chest which presumedly contained the goblet. The Headmaster tapped the chest with his wand and pulled out the goblet. It looked ordinary apart from the white-blue flames that filled it, which was decidedly _not_ ordinary.

The age restriction was once again reiterated. So, he’d be drawing an Age Line. She would like to see that. Sounded like an interesting piece of magic.

~~~

Huffing in exhaustion, Heather took her cauldron off the fire. Leaving it to cool, she turned to glare at her twin menaces. They had the grace to look sheepish as they waited for her rant.

“You should have given me more notice! You’re lucky this potion only took 7 hours to brew – some take _weeks_! It wasn’t an easy one to make either. This better be worth the trouble!”

“Thank you, our-”

“-angel from the heavens!”

Reluctantly amused by their pleading expressions, she filled a phial and handed it over. “There, one phial of Ageing Potion. Remember, a drop or two should be enough to age you up a few months.”

They cheered. “One of us will be the Hogwarts Champion, just you see, Heather!”

“And we’ll credit our success to you, don’t worry.”

She really didn’t think the Headmaster would have overlooked this glaring loophole, but she wouldn’t be the one to burst their bubble.

After they each took a few drops of the potion (they grew taller _again_ , damnit) the three made their way to the Great Hall. A few people were gathered around it, including her brother and his friends.

“Heather!” Rian greeted enthusiastically.

“Hello, Hadrian. Anyone put their names in yet?” Heather watched as a Ravenclaw walked towards the goblet, intent obvious.

“All the Durmstrang students. Not sure about Beauxbatons. For Hogwarts, I know Angelina put her name in. Oh, and Cedric too.”

“Guess I know who you’re rooting for then,” she muttered.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing,” she said. “Just watch the show.” She gestured at Fred and George as they strode confidently towards the Age Line.

Fred went first, hopping over the line. Nothing seemed to happen to him and he cheered in triumph. Heather shook her head; she could sense the build-up of magic in the Age Line. Unfortunately, George then followed his brother’s example and crossed over.

Then, the two were suddenly catapulted out of the area, and they skidded as they landed on the floor. What was hilarious, though, were the long white beards both now sported.

Smirking, she helped her guffawing friends stand and pulled them in the direction of the hospital wing. They passed a visibly amused Professor Dumbledore on their way out. She had to give it to the old wizard – he sure had a grand sense of humour.

The last-minute scrambling to brew the potion had been _so_ worth the trouble. Especially since she carried her camera everywhere.

~~~

Utter silence stole across the Great Hall as another piece of paper flew out of the flames. Anxiety churned in Heather’s gut. Anything bizarre happening at Hogwarts could be linked back to-

“Hadrian Potter,” Headmaster Dumbledore announced, gobsmacked. Any other time, she would have enjoyed the look on the ever-serene wizard’s face.

She watched in dread as her brother stood shakily. His eyes darted about nervously before landing on her. Giving him an encouraging nod – well, as best she could, anyway – she kept an eye on him as he walked out the way the rest of the champions did. Some of the Slyths, and even the Puffs, looked a little too wand-happy at the moment. Everyone was fixated on her brother, so she disillusioned herself and made to follow. As if she’d let her brother face the upcoming furore himself.

Probably the only ones who noticed were Professor Moody, with his magical eye, Professor Snape, who’d been watching her reaction, and Professor Dumbledore, who noticed everything.

‘ _Almost_ everything,’ she amended, thinking of the shocked expression he’d had just minutes ago.

As Hadrian reached the door, she brushed against him with her magic. She could feel him relax minutely as he stepped through. Upon entering the room, she could feel him tense up again. She didn’t blame him. The three (other) champions made an impressive sight. Viktor Krum, tall and intimidating. Fleur Delacour, with her untouchable ethereal beauty. Even Cedric, appearing more intense than she’d ever seen the usually easy-going boy. She put a steadying hand on Rian’s back.

“What eez it? Do zey want us back in ze hall?” Delacour asked, her musical voice somehow not breaking the palpable tension.

Her brother froze up, at a clear loss of words. Before she could do anything, someone else entered the room behind them.

“Unbelievable! Simply amazing!” Heather vaguely recognised the man as someone from the ministry. Bagmill or something. “May I introduce our _fourth_ champion?” The man sounded much too pleased for her tastes. She hoped he could feel the force of her glare.

Heather tightened her grip on Rian comfortingly. The reactions of the other champions weren’t encouraging, to say the least. Viktor was frustrated. Delacour, incredulous with a tinge of scorn. Cedric looked worried, immensely so. Heather ignored the ensuing debate between the French witch and Bagman (ahh yes, that was it) and nudged her brother closer to Cedric. He was the only other one with Hadrian’s interests in mind at the moment.

Just then, another group of people entered the scene. When she spied Professor Snape among the Professors, she breathed an inaudible sigh of relief. His presence alone was enough to bolster her courage. His sharp gaze flickered to her before sliding to Hadrian. She’d take that as tacit permission to be here. Since Professor Dumbledore didn’t protest either, she figured she was all-clear.

As amusing as it was to watch these prominent leaders bicker like prepubescents, her worry over Hadrian took precedence. He was still in shock over the whole thing, she imagined.

Finally, they turned to her brother and the Headmaster asked him, “Did you enter your name into the goblet, Hadrian?”

“No,” Hadrian stated firmly, looking him in the eye.

Despite that, Headmistress Maxime and Headmaster Karkaroff continued accusing her brother of foul play. Reaching the end of her tether, she cancelled the disillusionment.

“Enough,” she said quietly.

Almost everyone startled at her sudden presence.

“What eez zis little girl doing here?”

“How did you get in?!”

“This is a closed meeting!”

Brushing off their indignant comments, Heather prepared to give these adult wizards and witches the dressing down of their lifetime.

“Who am I?” She gave them all a mocking curtsey. “I am Lady Potter, magical guardian of Hadrian Leo Potter – _underaged_ wizard.” She swept her gaze across the room. “I simply did you all the favour of attending this little meeting,” she sneered, “before you had to send someone for me. After all,” a sweet smile, “you wouldn’t have questioned my ward about this magical contract without his magical guardian, would you?” Her grin turned sharp. “That would amount to a year in Azkaban, right? At the very _least_?”

_That_ effectively shut everyone up.

“Now, I couldn’t help but overhear,” she relished in the annoyed twitches that she garnered, “your point of contention. All of you believe that Hadrian somehow fooled the goblet and put his own name in, or asked someone to do it for him.”

“Exactlee! How else would eez name ‘ave appeared zen?”  Madame Maxime retorted.

Heather narrowed her eyes at the woman before softening her gaze as she turned to her brother. “Hadrian, would you like to prove your innocence by swearing a Vow?”

For the first time since his name had been called, his eyes lit up. “I, Hadrian Leo Potter, swear by my magic that I did not put my name in the Goblet of Fire and that I did not ask anyone to do so. So mote it be.” The room warmed with the force of the magical vow. “ _Lumos.”_ His wandtip lit with the spell, showing that his vow was true.

They looked reluctantly convinced now. These kinds of vows couldn’t be fooled, after all. Still, they weren’t appeased.

“Unfortunately,” Bagman said uneasily, “the magical rules of the goblet are such that anyone whose name is chosen has to participate in the tournament or their magic is forfeit.” He looked to Mr Crouch, the man she’d seen at the Quidditch World Cup, for help.

The man stared intensely at her brother, raising her hackles. She moved slightly to shield Hadrian from view. “We must follow the rules. The boy has to compete.”

Her fury threatened to bubble over, but she held her poise. (Occlumency, even as fledgling as hers was, helped a lot.) She was a Slytherin. Might as well squeeze some benefit from the situation.

“Just to make things clear, you are forcing Hadrian Leo Potter, who is underaged, to participate in this competition for wizards of legal age? Despite that he did not enter himself?”

Glaring suspiciously at her, Crouch nevertheless gave his agreement.

Heather beamed at the man. “As you wish.” She could tell that he was livid at her cryptic reply, but she made no further comment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me on [tumblr](https://lunarlooroo.tumblr.com)!


	55. Difficult Relationships

All this tournament nonsense was really getting on Heather’s nerves. Only Occlumency was saving these idiots from her rage. She almost laughed at the thought. No one would believe that Professor Snape was responsible for the uninjured state of her schoolmates.

It was like Hadrian’s second year all over again. Except without all the fear and with all the hate. In fact, Ronald Bilius Weasley would be first on her hit list if her resolve broke. At this rate, the ‘if’ was rapidly turning into a ‘when’. Seeing how sad Rian was about his falling out with Ronald only compounded her anger at the fickle-minded twit.

The twins had no such compunctions. They’d already taken their own crack at him. Their younger brother Ron may be, but Fred and George saw Hadrian as a sibling too. Turning on family was a big no-no. And the wrath of those two was no joking matter, despite their usual dispositions.

Next on her list would be the damn Hufflepuffs. Except a select few, of course. Whether it was surprising or not, Cedric was one of those few. While _he_ was the cause of the Puffs’ enmity towards Rian, he himself had not started treating him any worse. If anything, they had gotten closer since the champions were chosen. And Heather would address _that_ issue another time.

Ironically, it was the Slytherins that were giving Hadrian the least trouble. Most of them were fine. She’d warned them off long ago. The only reason she tolerated Malfoy and his goons was because, honestly? They posed little threat to her brother. It was the older snakes she’d been more worried about back in Hadrian’s first year, and that, as mentioned, was moot.

“Enter.”

She shelved her homicidal thoughts as she greeted Professor Snape. Such emotions didn’t lend well to the Occlumency lessons.

~~~

Severus watched with concealed interest as Heather Lyra stood gracefully and walked across the Great Hall. Pointedly glaring at the youngest Weasley boy, she collected her own redheaded menaces and urged her brother to follow her. They strode right out of the hall. Beside him, Albus stared mournfully as they left, the glares of three quarters of the school following them.

Intriguing. So the Golden Trio was no more. Weasley Junior had fallen out with his bosom buddy, it seemed, while Granger looked torn between the two. Severus held little fondness for the Potter boy – too reckless and foolish by far – but even he could see that Weasley was just letting petty jealousy cloud his thoughts. Such was the idiocy of adolescents.

Perhaps the most curious thing of all was _Draco’s_ behaviour. His gaze was firmly trained on the group, or more specifically, the girl. Severus had never had cause to observe his godson in Heather Lyra’s presence before. Right up until that little incident with Krum.

_That_ still brought him a feeling of discomposure whenever he thought of it. He could not say why he had felt that way at the girl’s interaction with Viktor Krum. Perhaps protectiveness over Lily’s daughter. Surely she would not involve herself with that boy. He was entirely unsuited for her and he would eventually leave, after all.

He digressed. Draco’s feelings were much easier to decipher. Jealousy had been clear in his gaze. While not surprising in itself, the target of his ire had shocked him. For his jealousy stemmed not from Krum preferring someone else, but _Heather Lyra_ being charmed by the foreign wizard. His godson was… _infatuated_ with the girl.

He did not know whether to be amused or horrified.

Amused, because Draco was being very much immature. Surely he could see that antagonising the girl’s brother, whom she doted and coddled, would not appeal him to her at all? Like pulling pigtails in the playground, Severus thought wryly.

Horrified, because in the chance that Draco’s feelings were to be discovered by the wrong people, the results would not be pleasant at all. Indeed, the boy’s father was one of those very people. Especially with the recent whispers of the Dark Lord becoming active once again. The Mark had been gradually darkening, and he could even perceive slight twinges of sensation – not quite pain – on occasion. Definitely not a safe relationship to pursue, given the current political climate.

Not that the girl would have considered his godson anyway.

~~~

It was the huge crowd at the Quidditch stands that drew his attention. As far as he knew, there was no match scheduled today. In fact, wasn’t the game cancelled this year to make way for the blasted tournament?

Walking closer to the pitch to get a closer look, he saw two figures circling the skies. While it was not against school rules for students to go flying in their free time, it hardly merited a large audience such as this one. Severus could see that most of the seats were filled.

When he finally identified one of the fliers, he realised the reason for all the commotion. Typical that the professional Quidditch player would take time to practice his skills. His companion was probably a schoolmate.

Severus made to turn away from the spectacle when the other flier came close enough for him to see who it was. He was surprised by the feelings that were elicited.

For zipping about on her brother’s Firebolt was Heather Lyra herself. It had been years since he last saw her flying. Since her last match, in fact. She clearly had not lost any of her skill despite the lack of practice. He still felt that it had been a waste for her to give up her position on the team. Not that his godson was a poor flier, but she was simply better. _Much_ better. As graceful as she was on the ground, it seemed like she was born to be airborne.

Light shining in her verdant eyes. Hair windswept, yet not detracting from her appearance. Her ease on a broom making her seem like she was floating on air, for all that she was moving at breakneck speeds. And her expression of triumph and joy as she grasped the fluttering snitch.

Unfamiliar emotion welled up in him, leaving him beyond words. Fortunately, there was no one to catch him in such a state, hidden near the base of the stands as he was. The audience was similarly affected, being as enraptured by her as they were by the Bulgarian, if not more so.

But when she turned her radiant smile and bright eyes to her competitor, Severus’ stomach – or certain other organ – plummeted. He did not know why.

Perhaps he did not _want_ to.

Still, he did not walk away, watching as the two descended to the ground. Her brother ran up to her, adoration clear in his eyes, and for the life of him, Severus could not say why he hated the boy at that very moment, but he did.

That deeply masochistic part of him compelled him stay as the dratted twins and that Hufflepuff boy, Diggory, joined them. While Weasley and Weasley did not hesitate to join the girl, Diggory hung back, slightly awkward. Severus felt a sort of pity, seeing that it was such a difficult group to intrude in on. That was, until he caught his besotted gaze.

Then any such feelings died a swift death.

Cedric Diggory, handsome, moderately intelligent, popular, _nice_. The kind of boy who probably rescued kneazles from trees and helped old crones apparate. Eminently more suitable than the Quidditch player or his own godson. He could see it now. Diggory would be part of the girl’s little posse soon enough. He would eventually graduate, get an illustrious job in the ministry, marry the girl in a beautiful spring wedding and have their requisite green-eyed brunet children.

And _of course_ Severus would watch over Heather Lyra like always until Diggory inevitably took over.

Lily would approve.

It was then that his body finally let him leave, turning his back curtly on the _heartwarming_ scene in the bright sunlight. He retreated deeper into the shadows, where he belonged.

~~~

Heather caught the elusive little ball, laughing in delight. She turned to thank Viktor for the matches but spied a tall figure standing in the shadows near the pitch. Recognising the man, she smiled giddily at the thought that he’d taken the time to watch her play.

In a fantastic mood, she greeted her competitor cheerfully. “Excellent game, Viktor!” Slyly, she added, “You didn’t just let me catch this one because I lost the previous two matches, did you?”

“Ov course not!” the other seeker said, affecting offence. “You play very vell, Heather.”

They both returned to the ground, and where she almost fell as Hadrian barrelled into her, babbling excitedly. “Oh Merlin! You…and then whoosh…then he zoomed…then wham! Then you caught it!”

Heather smiled fondly at Rian. He looked the happiest he had since Ronald Weasley’s stupid tantrum. She was glad she’d finally managed to cheer him up. Hadrian really looked his best when smiling.

And she wasn’t the only one who thought so, judging by the way Cedric was staring at him. Oh, that was just _adorable_. She gave him a knowing grin, which only grew wider when he blushed. Her brother could do much worse than Cedric Diggory, she supposed.

Remembering the Potions Master, she turned to look for him, only to find that he was gone. Her smile fell a bit, but she shook off the twinge of disappointment as Rian grabbed her attention again.

~~~

“Heather, there’s something-” Fred said hesitantly.

“-you might want to see.” George finished, pointing towards a group of Hufflepuffs.

She put the letter she had gotten from Griphook down, wicked smile fading from her lips.  “What is it?” She turned to look at them. They weren’t doing anything notable. They weren’t even anywhere near Hadrian.

“Take a look at-”

“-their badges.”

Heather didn’t see the problem. They were just supporting their housemate. Then the badge flashed briefly, changing the message printed on it.

“Fred. George,” she said quietly. There was no trace of her earlier satisfaction in her smile now.

“Y-yes, Heather?” they asked, nervous.

“Is the whole student body wearing badges that say ‘Hadrian Potter Stinks’?”

They gave each other uneasy looks. Heather’s serene expression only served to creep them out further.

“The Gryffs aren’t wearing it,” Fred offered weakly.

“Mmhh.”

Unable to bear the odd tension, George blurted out, “Malfoy started it!” Better tell her before she hunted down the wrong people.

She turned to them with her same creepy smile. “Why don’t you two go ahead first?”

They made to protest, but wisely shut up at the look in her eyes. “Right, see you in the Den.” They then beat a hasty retreat. They knew better than to stand in the way of Heather’s anger. Hell hath no fury like a witch scorned. And Heather wasn’t just your average witch.

Heather stood slowly from her seat. Oh, look at that. It seemed like she had just reached the end of her patience. Ronald would just have to wait. Draco Malfoy was just _begging_ for it.

And, conveniently, there he was. Taunting her Hadrian, no less. Unfortunately, there were other people around. She didn’t particularly wish to break Professor Snape’s ‘Slytherin Unity’ rule, so she stayed out of the altercation. It wasn’t like her brother _needed_ to know that she would be threate- _speaking_ to Malfoy.

She walked over to the next corridor and waited until the arrogant boy and his lackeys strutted in before casting a proximity ward. Not very many people used this walkway as it led to the Slytherin dorms, but one could never be too careful.

The poor brats were still unaware of what they’d walked right into. Steeling her face into impassivity, she strode out of the shadows.

“Malfoy.” Then, as if just noticing the others, “Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson, Bulstrode.” The two hulking boys might not have noticed the insult, but the girls surely had.

“Heather Potter,” the blond greeted, smiling his bootlicking smile. “I do believe this is our first official meeting. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“I wish I could say the same,” she drawled, a derisive smile on her face.

Parkinson’s expression screwed up in anger. “How _dare_ you insult Draco? He is Heir Malfoy! Know your place, Potter!”

Heather’s smile turned icy. “It is not I who does not know her place.” Casually, she flicked some hair out of her face, her signet ring gleaming in the light.

The rude girl paled dramatically at the sight of her Ladyship ring, shrinking back at the thinly-veiled threat.

Malfoy swept into a slight bow. “Apologies, Lady Potter, for Pansy’s faux pas. She has much to learn yet.” With a surprisingly sincere smile, he requested, “You do not have to stand on courtesy. Please, call me Draco.”

“I am here for one reason only,” she hedged. She didn’t want to agree, but she couldn’t outright deny him either. Judging by the irritation in his gaze, he had noticed her evasion.

“What may I do to assist, Lady Potter?”

“Oh, it is not what you _can_ do, but what you have _already_ done.”

“Pardon me?” The blonde tried to fake his confusion, but she saw right through him.

She resisted baring her teeth at him. "It has come to my attention that you have created a certain _accessory_ recently." Heather relished the way the boy lost his composure and floundered for an answer. "In fact, you are all wearing one now. Quite an interesting piece, isn't it?"

The usually haughty boy now chuckled shakily. "If you would like, I could procure one for you."

A razor-sharp smile. "Oh, I don't want only one." Faster than they could react, she raised her wand and wordlessly summoned the badges. The ones they had pinned flew off their robes and clattered at her feet. "I want _every. Single. Piece_." A cacophony of clacking sounds made itself known as an entire flood of the metal badges swarmed toward them. Her little housemates reflexively closed their eyes, fearing the impact of the badges. Of course, the metal simply gathered in piles around their feet, harming none. She wasn’t in the business of harming _children_ , after all.

When they finally opened their eyes, Heather saw the fear in them. She didn't like it, but they had messed with the wrong boy. "It was very thoughtful of you to support our two champions this way. It really is too bad that you made a mistake with the text, isn't it Malfoy?" The blond in question flinched slightly at his name. "I kindly recalled all the badges you made. Perhaps it would be better to proofread your little trinkets before sending them out, hmm?"

"O-of course, Lady Potter. We were much too careless."

She gave understanding nod, "See that it doesn't happen again." A shadowed look. "Sometimes, mistakes may lead to the direst of _consequences_." With those parting words, she turned and walked away.

She waited for it- ah hah! They hadn’t even bothered to cast silently. Sidestepping quickly, she easily avoided the stunner. Though she'd personally bet on Parkinson. Who would have known Bulstrode would have the nerve. It would be a waste deigning to respond to the weak attempt, so she didn't.

As soon as she turned the corner, however, she was quite prepared to be brought down a peg herself. She'd felt Professor Snape's presence as soon as he had approached the ward. While he indulged her a lot – in private, that was – from what Hadrian had told her, Malfoy was a favourite of his. Salazar knew why.

"My office," he demanded. She had no choice but to grimace and follow. Technically, he couldn't punish her for anything as she hadn't harmed them. She wouldn't have anyway; she was no brute.

Once they were settled into their seats, Heather waited for her Head of House to speak first. She didn't have to wait long.

"What was that confrontation about?" Severus demanded irately. For the girl's sake, he hoped she had not harmed the Malfoy heir.

"I kindly, but firmly, pointed out that Malfoy made a mistake with his badges in his enthusiasm in supporting our two champions. Surely he wouldn't want to give the impression that he was slandering Heir Potter, would he?"

Severus pinched his nose in a frustrated motion. "Of course you did. At least I have a credible explanation to give to the Headmaster when he asks about the flying badges."

"I _am_ a Slytherin, sir, despite my friends' best efforts." Indeed, she was.

"You are lucky that it was not another teacher who had been volunteered to follow the trail of metal." He had only acquiesced because it led to the dungeons.

"I wouldn't break the Rule like that," she said, offended. "I had a proximity ward up."

Scowling, he repeated, "Of course you did." Why was he not surprised that she had knowledge like that? While not a popular subject, books on warding could be found if one had a mind to. 

Heather Lyra chuckled a little until she saw his intensified glare. "Sir, aren't you going to scold me, or take points? Isn't Draco your favourite?" That was not the word he would use.

"That is, regrettably, not by choice," he muttered wryly. At her bemused look, he added, "He is my godson."

"I see," she said.

He raised an eyebrow. It was unlikely that she did. His relationship with the Malfoys was complicated at best. While he owed Lucius for being his Potions Mastery sponsor, he was also part of the reason why he had joined the Dark Lord. His feelings for the man were a jumbled mess of gratitude and bitterness. Not to mention that his appointment of godfather was more about his ability to protect Draco than any sentimental attachment.

"I doubt it,” he finally said. “Nevertheless, there is nothing to fault you for, so you may go. I would, however, refrain from making enemies out of the Malfoys. Do try not to injure Draco's delicate sensibilities in the future."

Walking out the door, the girl retorted cheekily, "I make no promises!"

Severus firmly told himself that she was just an impudent little brat. He was not amused. _At all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, constructive criticism or just comments are welcome! You can also come find me on [tumblr](https://lunarlooroo.tumblr.com)!


	56. A Mile a Minute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there folks! I'm having my school break right now, so I'll be posting every week instead of every two weeks until the end of July when my school starts again. Thank you all for continuing to read and comment! Hope you enjoy this chapter.

“Rian!”

Hadrian turned around at the sound of his name. His sister was making her way to him, a look of determination on her face. What was she up to now?

“Are you headed to the library too? Good thinking. We should really be preparing for the first task,” she said, tugging his arm down the hallway.

Oh no. He shifted uncomfortably. “Err, Heather, I have this thing. Yeah. With…” Seeing Neville ahead of them, he thought quickly. “Neville! Next time?” Extricating himself with an apologetic look, he jogged up to Neville. “Play along, okay?” he whispered to his friend. Louder, he said, “Let’s go! You agreed to teach me about magical water plants from that book Professor Moody lent you, remember?”

“Hadrian?” Heather asked in confusion at his abruptness.

Pretending not to hear, he walked faster, Neville in tow.

~~~

Fred and George popped their heads around the door. That was odd. They had never come into his dorm room before.

“Hadrian, your-” one of them (Fred?) began.

“-sister’s looking-” the other (George?) continued.

“-for you,” they chorused together. He could only differentiate them about half the time. Heather was much better at it than he was.

Speaking of his sister… “Err,” he hummed nervously, “could you tell her I’m not here?”

They exchanged a look. “If you say so.”

“Why are you avoiding-”

“-her anyway?”

“I’m not!” he denied loudly. “I’m just…busy. Yeah.”

They took in his current state – sprawled across his bed, holding a book about advanced defensive spells. “Riiggghhht.”

When the two finally left, Hadrian made a silent apology to his sister and buried his face in the bedding.

~~~

Walking out of the HoM classroom, he spied his sister in the corridor. Damn, how did she know his schedule? Oh, who was he kidding, that didn’t surprise him at all. Professor McGonagall might even have given it to her herself. Merlin knew she had all the teachers wrapped around her fingers, even Professor Snape. _Especially_ Professor Snape.

Heather caught sight of him and started walking over. Oh no. Need an excuse…

“Err, hi there Heather! Nice seeing you. I’ve got…something right now. Gottagobye!” Clutching his bookbag, he turned tail and ran back to Gryffindor Tower.

~~~

Seeing Heather down the corridor, Hadrian promptly turned around and walked the way he came.

~~~

She had had _enough_. Hadrian had evaded her for the last time. Storming into the Great Hall, she saw him already seated for dinner. Heather headed straight for him and grabbed his arm to prevent him from running away. She wouldn’t put it past him to try.

“Hadrian,” she said sweetly.

Her brother laughed nervously. “H-heather. How are you?”

“Oh, just marvellous. My brother has been running away from me every time I try to talk to him. Even going so far as to _lie_ to me to avoid me.” She felt him wince slightly. “Why don’t we have a _chat_ , Hadrian?”

“Umm…” Before he could finish his sentence, she dragged him out of the hall and into an empty alcove.

“Talk.”

Her brother looked to the side, posture screaming ‘uncomfortable’. Heather’s heart dropped. “Did I do something to upset you?”

His head snapped to face her. “No!” he exclaimed. “You didn’t do anything!”

“Then why are you avoiding me?” she asked, pained.

“…” he mumbled.

“What was that?”

“I said, I want to work on the tournament without your help.”

She immediately protested. “But Hadrian, this thing is dangerous! You could get hurt!” _Or worse._

“I can do it.” His expression was firm, gaze unrelenting.

“But-”

“Heather, I want to accomplish this with my own merits. You can’t coddle me forever.”

_Why couldn’t she?_ More arguments threatened to spring forth, but Heather held her tongue. She knew when to give up. Rian’s mind wouldn’t be changed. Her brother was a competent wizard. It wasn’t like she thought otherwise. She just worried. A lot.

Grimacing, she reluctantly agreed. The radiant look Hadrian sported was almost worth it. Almost.

~~~

Two identical redheads careened into the room, breathing like they’d just run a marathon. “Heather!”

She looked up from her book and stared expectantly. “What trouble did you two get into this time?”

“We’re offended-”

“-truly, we are.”

“And here we had some-”

“-news about the first task. Charlie-”

Holding up a hand, Heather quickly interrupted them. “Stop right there! Don’t say any more. I promised Rian that I wouldn’t interfere in the tournament.” Scowling, she continued, “He doesn’t want my help, but I’ve seen him meeting with _Cedric_ to talk about it.” Her friends shot knowing looks at her.

“Is that why you’ve-”

“-been sulking in the Den-”

“-burying your nose in those books of yours?”

“You’ve read them-”

“-at least a million times!”

“Not that you’ve ever let us touch them,” they concluded, narrowing their eyes.

“I do not _sulk_!” she retorted immediately. “I just don’t see why Hadrian doesn’t want my help, but is all okay with _Cedric’s._ I bet-” Caught up in her rant, she didn’t notice when Fred and George advanced on either side of her and lunged toward the book in her hands. Jolting in surprise, she tried to maintain her grasp on the book to no avail. “Give that back! You’ll damage it!”

“Ah ah, Harpy.”

“No need to shriek.”

“We just want to see-”

“-what the big deal is about this book.” With that, the Fred flipped it open.

“ _This Book is Property of the Half-Blood Prince,_ ” they announced imperiously.

George looked at her slyly. “So who’s this prince?”

“Someone we know?” Fred added, waggling his brows suggestively.

To her embarrassment, her cheeks flared hotly. “He’s no one. Now give me back my Prince’s book!”

“ _Your_ Prince?” They grinned wickedly. Heather groaned at the looks on their faces.

“Gred.”

“Yes, Forge?”

“Methinks little Heather-harp’s got herself a teensy crush!”

“Oh, definitely. Look at the girl blush!”

“I don’t even know who he is!” she protested.

“Oohh. You’ve got yourself a mystery man eh?”

“Don’t lose hope, Heather. We’ll get you your prince.”

Finally, she was able to snatch the book back. She tucked it safely in her robes, ignoring the twin smirks. “Don’t you two have something to say to Hadrian?” she asked, desperate to change the topic. She made a quick check with her tracking spell. “He’s in the library.”

“Of course, princess.”

“Your wish is our command.”

“Wouldn’t want your prince after our hides.”

Groaning, she pointed at the door. “Go!”

~~~

“Again,” Severus demanded. Without waiting for a reply, he silently cast another light _Legilimens_. He easily ran down the defences, feeling the girl’s frustration and irritation. Angered himself, he cut off the spell and glared. While they hadn’t moved onto blocking the full spell, Heather Lyra had done reasonably well so far. She was usually able to block a partial _Legilimens._ At least until now.

“What was that pathetic attempt?” he snapped out. “Refrain from wasting my time.”

Remorse flashed in her eyes as she apologised. He forced out a breath to calm himself. The girl had been in a dreadful mood this week, not that he had been watching. “You need to be calm, or else your mind will be in disarray.”

“I’m trying, sir, I really am. I’ve even tried meditating. Sorry, there’s just been a lot going on this week.” He could see it. The girl looked downtrodden.

Grimacing, he said, “You could talk about it, if you wish.” After an awkward pause, he added, “I have heard that it is therapeutic.” The girl would probably refuse the offer. Why in Avalon would she speak to him of all people? Nevertheless, it was difficult not to do anything in the face of her misery. He cursed himself for going soft.

She sighed explosively. “Hadrian doesn’t want me to interfere with the tournament and he’s spending lots of time with Cedric and people have died and it’s too dangerous but he still doesn’t want my help andI’mreally _really_ worriedaboutthefirsttask!” the girl blurted out. She then took a deep breath. “Oh thank Merlin. I was about to explode and I couldn’t talk to Fred and George about it.”

Severus blinked. He took a while to process the slew of words as Heather Lyra stared at him expectantly. “Why are the Messrs Weasley suddenly not confidant material?”

Inexplicably, the girl suddenly turned quite a fetching- _startling,_ he corrected himself harshly – shade of crimson. “They keep teasing me about a crush. Which I don’t have!” she stated stubbornly.

Abruptly, the enraptured expression Diggory had on the Quidditch pitch the other day surfaced unbidden. Brushing aside the irritation that bloomed in his chest, he said, “Certainly, your brother can handle himself. Loathe as I am to admit it, his skills are more than adequate to handle the tasks.” Withholding a sneer, he choked out, “Diggory is also one of the less hopeless students in school. Between themselves, they will no doubt be able to prepare themselves sufficiently.” In fact, if her brother was anywhere as capable as she was, he would have little problem completing the tasks.

To his surprise, his words seemed be of some comfort. Heather Lyra’s expression cleared and she smiled beatifically. He clenched his fists to stop them from doing something inane, like ruffle her curling locks of hair. Ignoring his wayward limbs and suddenly elevated heart rate, he barked at her to ready her shields again.

~~~

The crowds of people pushed and shoved, hoping to snag a good seat for the upcoming show. Employing subtle use of a repelling spell, Heather slipped through the throngs and sat, saving two for her friends. And yes, they were still friends, even if their teasing hadn’t totally died down yet. The lurid green and silver hair she’d given them had only spurred them on.

“Hello there princess.” And yes, the nickname had stuck. She almost preferred harpy. She turned to look at them as they bowed gallantly.

“Lovely day for a good joust.”

“Good day, my knights,” she greeted dryly. She’d learnt to just go along with them. “You may rise.” They stood, winking at the other students staring oddly at them. “Just sit down already. They’re about to announce the task.” She stopped talking when Bagman cast a _Sonorus_ and began speaking. As she listened, she began to pale drastically.

“Fred. George. You didn’t tell me the task was dragons.”

“You said-”

“-not to!”

“That was before I knew it was dragons! Dragons! Oh Circe, Hadrian’s going to face a dragon!”

“Calm down, Heather!”

“Hadrian said he had a plan!”

“That doesn’t reassure me at all,” she hissed. “He’s a Gryffindor; his plans usually involve having no plan!”

“We should be offended-”

“-but, well, you’re right.”

“Not. _Helping_!” she hissed. Heather sat on the edge of her seat as Cedric, Delacour then Viktor faced their dragons. Figured her brother would be last. Such was the darned Potter luck. The first three hadn’t been injured too badly, which was what kept Heather from a nervous breakdown as her brother walked into the arena.

The first thing he did was cast a spell, which was expected. What wasn’t expected was that there didn’t seem to be any effects. Some people in the stands started laughing when nothing happened, but she wasn’t fooled. Hadrian didn’t seem surprised by the lack of effect and jumped straight into other spells. Staying at a safe distance from the dragon, he cast protection spells on himself. By then the dragon had become restless and was going to make a move when a long object soared into Hadrian’s outstretched hand. Realisation dawned on her.

Heather laughed, a tad hysterically. “He’s going to try and outfly the dragon.”

Obviously remembering her words in Hadrian’s first year, the twins cackled loudly. “Atta boy. Show that overgrown lizard your moves!”

And show he did. Hadrian flew circles around the enraged reptile, trying to distract it. There was one heartstopping moment when it seemed like the fire that the Horntail shot out would roast Hadrian, but his protection spells held strong. He flew through the stream of fire unharmed, ignoring the loud gasps of the audience. With the help of some conjured birds, he was eventually able draw the dragon far away enough from the eggs.

Darting quickly back, with the dragon rushing to catch up, Hadrian snagged the golden egg and swooped out of harm’s way. Heather could scarcely believe it. Her brother had practically just played a seeker’s match against a dragon. And _won_.

Not caring for the points, she dragged the twins off to look for her brother. If she had stayed, she would have seen that all the judges gave Hadrian full points, except for Karkaroff’s reluctant 7. Not even the heavily biased wizard could give any lower, in light of Rian’s excellent performance and lack of injury.

Catching sight of her brother, Heather ran towards him and threw herself into his arms. “Rian, you were amazing!” Stepping back to look up into his eyes (When had he gotten so tall?), she said, “I’m sorry for doubting you. You didn’t need my help at all.”

Hadrian laughed sheepishly. “It was actually your words back in first year that gave me the idea. _‘You fly like you’re trying to outpace a dragon!’_ remember _?_ I still needed your help in the end.” He looked at the ground. “I wanted to show you that I’m a capable wizard too. That I can protect you too and that you don’t need to worry so much about me.”

Touched, Heather tilted Hadrian’s face back up to look at her. “Rian, I _know_ you’re powerful and skilled and able to protect me. But I’m your big sister. I’ll _always_ worry about you.”

Wordlessly, her brother pulled her closer and hugged her tightly. She savoured the contact before adding cheekily, “Just don’t spend all your time with your Cedric. I missed you this past week.”

“H-heather!” Her brother sputtered adorably. She knew now why Fred and George were so relentless in their teasing. Rian’s reaction was just precious. She still wouldn’t change their hair back though.

“Break it up you two!” Fred cut in. George gestured behind them towards Hermione and Ronald. Seeing the contrite look on the boy’s face, Heather stepped aside. But not before scowling fiercely at the fickle-minded brat.

“We’ll just be visiting Cedric and Viktor now.” Heather nudged the twins into the medical tent, leaving the three younger children alone. But not before she shot one last warning glare at Ronald.

Upon entering, she saw Madam Pomfrey bustling about the tent. “Dragons, what are they thinking?” the matron muttered irritably.

“Not much, evidently.” The Mediwitch turned to her in surprise.

“Heather, goodness. What are you doing here? Your brother isn’t here.”

Nodding her head, Heather answered, “I know, I just saw him. I’m here to visit Cedric and Viktor. Are they okay?”

“Oh, they’ll be right as rain in no time. No serious injuries at all. Very lucky they were. After facing dragons!” Madam Pomfrey repeated incredulously before returning to her duties.

Fred and George were already chatting with Viktor. He had only a light graze on his side, so he was already on his way out. Heather congratulated him for his performance before he left.

Next, they saw Cedric. The Hufflepuff had a rather nasty burn on his leg but it would cause no permanent damage. The only catch was that he had to stay off of it for an hour or two. Hence he was still stuck here even though he was the first to do the task.

“Hey guys, how did Hadrian do?” Cedric asked.

Amused at the older boy’s eagerness, she nonetheless told him what Rian had done. Cedric was really impressed that Hadrian was in first place and that he hadn’t even gotten injured.

“That’s amazing!” Heather could practically see the stars in his eyes. “I’ll have to thank him again for telling me about the dragons.”

“Hey, it was us who told you!” the twins exclaimed.

“Yeah, but you didn’t want to say anything while I was there until Hadrian made you.”

They sniffed haughtily.  “Our Hadrian’s too-”

“-kind for his own good.”

“He is,” Cedric agreed, smiling dreamily.

And the older boy had to ask why Heather had giggled at that moment.

~~~

_Dear Bill,_

_How are those burns? Hope you’ve had them looked at by a Healer. Dare I hope your apprentice has learnt his lesson? Pretty sure inferi are nothing to scoff at. Please teach him how to properly handle a fire spell. I’ve sent over a few phials of Fire Retardant this time. Just soak your clothes in it and it’ll be fireproof. Not sure how well it’ll hold up against Fiendfyre though, but I sincerely hope that won’t be an issue._

_Speaking of fire, thanks for your advice about Hadrian. He nearly gave me a heart attack trying to outfly a dragon, but that’s actually par for the course where he is concerned. I guess he just wanted to gain some independence. I can’t coddle him forever, no matter how much I want to._

_Sighing mournfully, Heather_

_P.S. Know anything about Portkeys?_

~~~

_Hi Heather,_

_Soaked my good set of spelunking robes in the potion first thing. I have the feeling they’ll come in handy. Walters, the apprentice, seems slightly warier about the job now, but I think it’ll take a few more episodes before it finally sinks in. Thankfully, I don’t think he knows how to cast Fiendfyre._

_Glad to hear Hadrian’s alright. He did really great, from what I’ve heard from Mum. It’s tough, being an older sibling. Be glad you don’t have six, though it seems like you have enough on your hands with your one. I was never as protective as you are, but I know how hard it can be to let them go off into danger. Still have dark thoughts about Ginny’s first year, sometimes._

_I attached a parchment with instructions on how to make Portkeys. No book this time, sorry. Pretty illegal, since you can’t make one without authorisation. Just don’t get caught, yeah? Well, you’re a Slytherin, so you should be good on that front. And please don’t tell Mum I was the one who taught you._

_Bill_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on tumblr [here](https://lunarlooroo.tumblr.com)!


	57. All's Fair

The man glared fiercely at the gathered students. All the fourth thru seventh years had been ordered to meet in the common room for an announcement. Heather couldn’t help but wonder what it was that their Head of House had to say. It wasn’t often that he called for a house-wide meeting, especially since the Prefects were capable of passing on any information he needed to convey.

The moment he opened his mouth, everyone sat up straighter, giving their fullest attention. Not that they hadn’t been before, but one could never be _too_ attentive when it came to Professor Snape.

“In accordance with Triwizard Tournament traditions, there will be a ball organised on Yule this year. Only students above fourth year will be able to attend. However, younger years may do so if escorted by any fourth to seventh year. That is the only,” he narrowed his eyes warningly, “exception. I expect that all of you will comport yourselves with dignity and composure. Keep in mind that the foreign students and teachers will be present as well. Any misdemeanour reflects poorly on our house and on me, so do not give me cause to punish any of you.”

“Yes Professor,” Heather said dutifully, together with her housemates.

“Very well. As this is to be a formal ball, you are all required to be attired in dress robes and have a companion for the evening. Dancing will be expected – formal, not that foolish wiggling about you dunderheads do these days. All of you _will_ dance gracefully, or not at all. Seeing as there is still three weeks’ time left, I suggest you take the time to practise.”

And with that, without so much as a farewell, he swept out of the room. As soon as he did so, murmuring broke out amongst the students. Most of them appeared excited. Heather figured it was probably because they were already accustomed to high society events. She didn’t know how to dance, but Daphne, or even Astoria, would probably be willing to teach her. She turned to the side and asked as much to the younger witch.

“Oh, of course Heather! With your grace, I’m sure you’ll pick it up in no time.” With a sly look, she whispered, “And you’ll charm your date right off his feet! Who do you think you’ll go with? Of course, a boy will have to summon up his courage to ask first – Salazar knows you have a bit of a reputation.”

Confused, Heather asked, “What reputation? I hardly talk to any males besides Fred, George and my brother.”

“Exactly!” Giggling, the fourth year said, “People call you the Slytherin Ice Princess, you know, because you appear so standoffish. Not to mention you’re top of your level, excellent at Quidditch, beautiful. No one can hope to match you!”

Heather simply furrowed her brows. She didn’t get it, but whatever. No doubt Daphne was exaggerating, as she was wont to. At any rate, she wasn’t looking forward to the ball at all. There wasn’t any boy in school she was even marginally interested in, not in _that_ way at least. When she tried to think of anyone she would like to go with, intense dark eyes flashed suddenly in her mind.

Startled, she put all thoughts of the ball out of her head as she settled down for her nightly meditation.

~~~

It seemed to Heather that the whole student body had been dosed with Amortentia overnight. New couples sprouted out of nowhere. Everywhere she turned, she saw students in various states of entanglement. Handholding here, kissing there. One particularly amorous couple had been caught in flagrante delicto near the Transfiguration classroom by the scandalised Professor McGonagall herself.

It had been a week since the announcement and the lovey-dovey atmosphere showed no signs of abating. If this kept up until the Yule Ball, it would be a very long fortnight indeed.

Heather tried her best to ignore the couples around her as she ate her breakfast. Even the Slytherins were caught up in the passion, albeit in a subtler manner than their peers. Focussed as she was on ignoring the world, the call of her name almost caused her to jolt in surprise. She looked up to see her housemate, Adrian Pucey. While they were in the same year and house, she had barely spoken five sentences to him, mostly during Quidditch practice years ago. She wondered what he wanted.

“Miss Potter, may I have the honour of escorting you to the Yule Ball?” the Prefect asked formally.

Stunned, she blinked rapidly as she tried to process the statement. Now that she was paying attention, she realised that most of Slytherin house was watching them. She gathered her wits enough to give a polite response. Somehow, she didn’t think ‘thanks, but no thanks’ would cut it.

“My apologies, but I shall have to respectfully decline.”

Disappointment flashed in the boy’s eyes before he masked it. “Of course, thank you for your time.” With an elegant nod, he walked off, paying no heed to the sudden whispering that stole across the table.

Well, that was bizarre.

~~~

For not the first time, Heather cursed Adrian Pucey. It wouldn’t be the last time, either. His request seemed to have triggered an unending cascade. Some other Slyths in her year had asked her after Pucey. Then Slyths in other years. Finally, boys from the other houses tried as well.

It was extremely confusing to Heather, who hadn’t even _spoken_ to most of those boys before. Besides Rian and the Weasleys, the only males she had contact with were the younger years she mentored and the Professors.

Heck, even _Draco Malfoy_ had asked her to the ball. She had given him the same answer she gave every single one of the other boys. The look on his face had made her feel a little guilty, but not enough to retract her refusal.

What she hated most were those who didn’t want to take no for an answer. The scenes they’d made would have made a cranky toddler proud.

Like this Gryffindor.

“What do you mean _no_!?” The boy’s face was an unattractive shade of red. “Do you know who I am?” People could say what they wanted about Slytherins, but they at least knew how to take a refusal graciously. (Well, most of them, that was, she amended, thinking of Rian’s story about Malfoy on the Hogwarts Express in his first year.)

“Actually, no I don’t,” Heather answered honestly. All she knew was that he wasn’t in Hadrian’s year.

He sputtered in shock. Clearly, he’d meant it as a rhetorical question. Once he’d gotten over it, his rage returned. He advanced threateningly, trying to back her into the wall. He had a large build, towering over her easily. (Well, most people did, what with her diminutive stature.)

Most girls in her situation would have been afraid. Here she was, alone with a large, _angry_ male. Heather wasn’t most girls. Instead of feeling scared, she was furious.

The scenario reminded her painfully of Vernon.

Gathering her magic to blast the great brute into next week, she was reasonably startled by the third voice that cut in sharply.

“McLaggen! 100 points for harassment of a fellow student and two weeks’ detention with me!”

They both turned towards the Professor. Heather was mildly disappointed that she didn’t get to unleash her magic on the newly-identified McLaggen, but she comforted herself with the fact that he would suffer his detention with her Head of House. He was really in for it now. Professor Snape was notoriously protective of his snakes. The boy seemed to realise that as well, since he fled soon after.

“We have got to stop meeting like this, Professor,” she said teasingly.

“Then perhaps you should manage your paramours more strictly,” he snarked in return.

At that, she grimaced. “They are hardly _paramours_ , sir. Lockhart was just delusional and McLaggen, well, he’s a self-entitled thug.”

“And your other _suitors_?” he sneered.

She shrugged. “I don’t know why all those boys asked me. I don’t even know them. You’d be better off asking them.”

Severus raised a disbelieving brow. Did Heather Lyra truly not realise? The little maggots had followed her with their eyes long before the ball had been announced. For such an intelligent witch, she was remarkably oblivious about such matters.

“Anyway, thank you again for your help, sir.” She smiled brightly before going off for her next class.

Unfortunately, that reminded him of the scene he had come upon. The unmitigated fury he had felt at seeing the disgusting boy advance on Heather Lyra had caused him to nearly curse the boy. He still wanted to, in fact.

He would have to settle for inflicting the worst two weeks of detention in Hogwarts’ history.

~~~

“No, no. Here, step this way.” Heather demonstrated the steps again with her arms raised to rest on an invisible partner. She wasn’t quite as fluid in the leading position, but she did it adequately. Daphne was a good teacher. “Got it?”

“I think so,” Rian said hesitantly. He tried again to lead her in the dance, making a few mistakes here and there.

“Better. But remember to look up at your partner. Don’t just stare at your feet.”

Hadrian nodded and started moving again.

“So, have you asked anyone to the ball? You’ll be leading the first dance, right?” Heather asked.

Her brother groaned. “Don’t remind me. If I had it my way, I wouldn’t be dancing at all. I don’t know who to ask!”

“Come on now, this isn’t so bad, right?” Heather said, allowing herself to be twirled. She made an approving sound at the smooth motion. “Who do you have in mind?”

He blushed in a telling manner. “No one,” he lied.

“Remember to look up, Rian,” she teased, using a hand to lift his gaze away from his feet.

“You said to look at my partner’s face. I have to look down for that,” he retorted.

Heather pouted. “Not funny. Not my fault I’m short.” Her nutrition potions had done wonders for her brother. He was now of average height amongst his peers, much taller than she ever hoped to be. “Anyway, don’t try to change the subject. Your date to the ball?”

“I don’t have anyone to ask!”

She smirked. “Are you sure? What about a certain Hufflepuff?”

His blush, which had previously faded, returned with a vengeance. “I can’t ask Cedric!”

“I was going to say Hannah Abbott, but since you mentioned Cedric…”

“Heather!”

She laughed at her flustered brother. “Why can’t you ask him? I’m sure he’d say yes.”

“He’s just a friend!” Hadrian protested weakly. “Anyway, I don’t want to give Skeeter anymore fuel for her stories.” Heather scowled at the mention of that detestable reporter. She’d written a lot of rubbish about Hadrian in the Daily Prophet.  “I can just see it now – ‘Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-A-Poof!’” Rian said scornfully.

“And are you?” she asked carefully. While she was reasonably certain about his crush on Cedric, it could just be admiration he was feeling.

“Is that a problem?” he answered in the same tone.

Seeing the vulnerable look on his face, her heart melted. “Of course not! You can like whoever you want to. I’ll always support you. You have pretty good taste, too. Cedric Diggory, Hufflepuff Hottie.”

Hadrian groaned in embarrassment and remained silent until they finished their dance. “Okay, it wasn’t horrible dancing with you.”

An idea formed in her mind as he said those words. “Say, Rian. Why don’t we go together to the ball?”

“What?” he asked, incredulous.

“Yeah. That way, you don’t have to ask anyone and nobody would think we’re involved since we’re siblings! Wouldn’t want to give Cedric the wrong idea, would you?”

Hadrian ignored that last line and thought about his sister’s suggestion. It sounded pretty good. At least he knew he’d have fun with Heather.

“Okay, it’s a date!”

~~~

“Hey, Heather, I was wondering if I could speak with you for a moment?”

Withholding her irritated scowl, she pasted a polite look as she turned around. To her shock, instead of the next hopeful boy trying to ask her to the ball, she saw Cedric Diggory looking at her sheepishly.

She shot a quick glance at her brother, who was studiously stirring his porridge with a focus more suited for Potions class. Grimacing, she stood before Cedric could speak and dragged him out of the Great Hall. Honestly, for one of the top students in his year, Cedric could be very dense.

Once they were out of the public eye, she spun around and glowered at the Puff. “Please tell me you’re not going to ask what I think you’re going to ask.”

The older boy tilted his head to the side in confusion. Okay, that was pretty cute. She was still angry, though. “What are you talking about? And why did you pull us out of the hall?”

Resisting the urge to smack her palm against her face, she tried to explain. “Do you realise how that scene looked like to everyone else?” His confusion didn’t fade, so she had to spell it out for him. “It looked like you were going to ask me to the Yule Ball,” she said flatly.

“What?!” he exclaimed. “No! That’s not what I wanted at all!” He looked worried at the thought.

“Thanks for that glowing compliment, Diggory.”

He winced. “That’s not-”

Heather held up a hand, sighing at the hopeless boy. “I know; I was just teasing. I think I know what you really wanted to ask,” she said with a knowing look.

The boy blushed and sputtered. “H-how do you- Is it that obvious?”

“Only to those looking closely. And trust me, no one watches Hadrian as closely as I do.” With a sly look, she added, “Though _someone_ might give me a run for my Galleons.”

Clearing his throat, Cedric tried to regain his composure. He straightened his back to an almost painful degree, almost looking like a soldier in front of his sergeant. “Right. Anyway, may I have your permission to ask Hadrian to the ball?”

“Why are you even asking _me_? Shouldn’t you be speaking to Rian?”

“Because everyone knows how protective you are of your brother. I wanted to show you how serious I am about this,” he said earnestly. Smiling nervously, he mumbled, “I also didn’t want you coming after me if I asked him without asking you first.”

Heather smiled internally. Oh, that was just _sweet_. Her Hadrian had chosen well with this one. That didn’t mean she would make it easy for Cedric. It was her prerogative as an older sibling. “Unfortunately, Hadrian already has a date.”

The Hufflepuff’s face fell. It felt almost like kicking a crup. Not that she felt any remorse. About this, of course. She would _never_ kick a crup.

“Ohh… Who is it?” Cedric asked, disappointment etched in his expression.

“Oh, just some older girl. She asked him and he accepted. Just yesterday, in fact,” she said casually. His face fell even further. Chuckling, Heather attempted to lift his spirits. “Oh, cheer up, Cedric. It’s not like he needs to spend the whole evening with the girl. It’s acceptable to dance with other people too, you know,” she hinted.

“Right.” He perked up immediately at the idea. Hufflepuffs, really. “So you won’t eviscerate me if I approach Hadrian at the ball?” he asked, only half joking.

“No promises. Depends on what Hadrian has to say after,” she threatened lightly. Not that it worked on the older boy. His buoyant mood seemed impenetrable. Ahh, young love.

Now she had to go reassure Hadrian that she and Cedric weren’t having some sordid affair.

~~~

Heather really didn’t know how she got into situations like this. She would be glad when all this Yule Ball nonsense was over. It wasn’t all puppy love and butterflies. It was apparently also about witches scorned. And everyone knew what they said about _them._

“You’re a horrid little girl, leading them on like that!” the girl, Angelina Johnson, was it, hissed.

Heather sighed in exasperation. The other girl had gone on and on in the same vein for about ten minutes already. Her two sidekicks, Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell, merely nodded along with her words. And really, _little_ _girl_? She was their age! Just because she wasn’t very tall…

“I don’t know what you did to have Fred and George fooled, but-”

“Look, Johnson,” Heather cut in, bored. “I don’t know why you’re ranting at me when what you _should_ be doing is asking Fred or George to the ball.” Sneering contemptuously, she added, “If you can tell them apart enough to ask one of them, I mean. Or is either of them okay for you?”

“Why you-!” the girl glared viciously and raised a hand to slap her.

Gaze sharpening, Heather’s own hand shot out and caught the incoming palm before it could connect. It had been mildly amusing before, but now she just felt annoyed. “You don’t want to go there, Johnson.” The girl tried to free her hand, but Heather just tightened her grip.

“Heather, there you are-”

“Angelina? Alicia? Katie?”

“What are you guys doing?”

Heather turned towards Fred and George, who were looking concernedly at where she was grasping Johnson’s arm. Slowly, she let go and backed away in case the other girl tried something again.

Johnson was panicking at the interlopers. “F-Fred. G-George. Thank Merlin you’re here. Potter just suddenly confronted us and started shouting. She said things about staying away from you two and tried to hit me when I refused.”

The girl was clearly grasping at straws. She was also a bad liar. She kept looking to the side and wringing her hands. There was no way Fred and George would believe her.

Wasn’t there?

“Angelina…” Fred said softly as he approached the trio of girls. Heather ducked her head, not wanting to see her friend comfort the lying bitch.

She looked up when George put a hand on her shoulder. “Just look,” he said, jerking his head towards his twin. Reluctantly, she turned back to the scene.

Fred leaned closer to the Gryff chaser. Looking into her eyes, he said quietly, “Do _not_ threaten Heather ever again, you hear me?” With a rare angry scowl, he said, “Leave.”

Johnson ran off and Heather could hear the faint sounds of her sobbing. The other two girls followed soon after.

“That’s done with,” Fred said grimly. Stepping closer to her, he asked, “Are you okay, Heather?”

Lifting her chin, she said, “I can take care of myself. As if I’d let _Johnson_ try anything.”

“Has this happened before?” George asked worriedly.

She shook her head. “Don’t worry, you two. I won’t let anything happen to me.”

Fred and George sighed at their best friend’s stubbornness. Maybe they should have a tracking charm on _her_ too. What was it about Potters that attracted trouble?

“What was that-”

“-about, anyway?”

Heather laughed as she remembered. “She saw through my nefarious plan of corrupting you two with my womanly wiles. As a good friend, _of course_ she couldn’t have taken it lying down.”

“Oh, but it’s-” Fred said, grinning.

“-too late for us,” George continued.

“We would gladly-”

“-lay down our lives-”

“-for any scrap-”

“-of your attention-”

“-our Slytherin princess,” they said together, lifting her hand to each place a kiss.

They shot each other a sidelong look when Heather chuckled delightedly at their antics. Mission Cheer-Heather accomplished.

Next mission, Clucking-Trio-of-Chasers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it! Heather's date to the ball is none other than Hadrian! Someone actually did guess it correctly, I think. I know that it seems like a cop-out. Sorry if that's disappointing for some. I know that quite a few suggested Viktor be her date, but it just didn't fit in with the plan I had. 
> 
> If you have any questions, just want to talk to me about the fic or fandom in general, you can leave a comment or find me on [tumblr](https://lunarlooroo.tumblr.com).


	58. A Night to Remember

“Happy Christmas!” Heather cheered as she passed everyone their gifts. Everyone was more restless than usual on this Christmas morning. For good reason, too. The Yule Ball was tonight. Which was why she was eager for her gifts to be opened.

As per tradition, they were seated in a circle in the Den to open their presents together. ‘They’ being her, Rian, Fred, George, Ronald, Hermione, with the recent addition of Ginny and her friend, Luna.

“No way,” George said, holding his present up.

Fred quickly ripped his own open upon seeing his twin’s. “Heather. You didn’t!”

“I did,” she said smugly.

“Wicked!”

“You’re the best, Heather!”

“Well, I couldn’t have let you go to the ball with robes that looked like – what was it you said, oh yes – Madam Puddifoot’s vomited over a dementor. Unless you _wanted_ me to avoid you the whole time.”

It really was a good thing that the ball happened to be a Yule one. Heather had planned the gift since she’d heard Fred and George complain about their grandfather Septimus’ robes right after receiving their Hogwarts letters and supply lists. She doubted they would have accepted the costly present if it weren’t Christmas. The dress robes she’d gotten them were rather well-designed, if she could say so herself. She had tried to match their colour preferences, but not neon orange, of course. Instead, it was a dusky shade of orange that graduated into sunset colours at the hems. She figured that the eye-catching, yet tasteful robes would appeal to them.

“These robes are-”

“-right smashing, they are!”

“And look, someone’s finally-”

“-got our names right!” They pointed to the stylised lettering sewn in silver that circled the edges of their sleeves. Fred’s had repeated ‘G’s while George’s were ‘F’s.

“Our own Mum still-”

“-gets them wrong!” they said, indicating the letters on their Weasley sweaters.

Smirking wickedly, Heather leaned closer to them and whispered, “The letters will switch every now and then when people aren’t looking.” Sure enough, when they looked back down, the ‘F’s had turned into ‘G’s and vice versa. Forge and Gred returned the devious look, heads already plotting the confusion they could spread.

Of course, since she’d gotten Fred and George dress robes, she couldn’t very well leave Ronald out. It was fortunate that she’d also thought to include Ginny as well, since Neville had ended up asking her to the ball.

Heather was glad that they seemed to appreciate the robes. At least now they wouldn’t be embarrassed throughout the night. (Not that FredGeorge would have been affected. Knowing them, they’d have made the best of whatever horrible garments they had.) Despite her previous reservations, Heather found herself actually anticipating the ball.

Next up was her present to Hadrian. She could tell he was slightly confused by the single thick scroll he had gotten. She watched eagerly as he unravelled the gold-trimmed ribbon holding it closed. She was glad it had all been settled just in time for Christmas. Griphook had only been all too eager to help with her request. Anything to mess with wizards.

Hadrian’s eyes were still glued to the words on the parchment. She smirked as he sat there, stunned. “Come on, Rian, kneazle got your tongue?”

“Heather, is this for _real_?” Hadrian asked in disbelief. He shoved the letter in her face, as if she didn’t already know exactly what it said.

The others crowded around Hadrian, curious to know what it was that had caused Hadrian such shock.

“ _Referring to the events dated 31 October 1994…_ ” Hermione recited.

_“…in accordance with Wizarding bylaw 342 Section 2…_ ” Fred and George said.

“ _…you are thus declared fully emancipated…”_ Ginny continued.

“… _with all the rights of an adult wizard?!_ ” Ron shouted incredulously.

Silence reigned as they all processed the information.

“ _Brimfire, Head of Inheritance Matters, Gringotts._ ” Everyone turned to stare at Luna, who was smiling calmly. “Well, it looked like it was my turn to read, no one else was going to. The dinglegirdles must have all pinched your lips shut.”

“Thank you Luna,” Heather said, shaking her head fondly. Well, at least she had snapped everyone out of their shock.

“So I’m really emancipated?” Hadrian asked cautiously. “How did you even pull this off?”

“It says here that by forcing you to compete in the tournament, they essentially declared you as good as an adult,” Hermione said.

Heather nodded. “Yup. The heads of three different magical schools and a Head of Department of the MoM were even present. Can’t get any more official than that.” As it was now, Hadrian had more rights than even she did! Hers was only a legal emancipation; she was still subject to the law on underage magic. Hadrian, however, had a magical emancipation, which meant he was recognised fully as an adult in every way. This would be really helpful in case there was an emergency where he needed to use his wand during the school holidays. Goodness only knew all the trouble he attracted.

“You know what that means, mate!” Ron exclaimed. “You can learn how to apparate!”

She shook her head at that. Hadrian’s friends sure had interesting priorities. Well, she would talk to him later about all the ramifications of this. For now, they had a ball to prepare for.

~~~

Heather had chosen white dress robes for the occasion, though there was some blue that faded in to the white at the hems to so that they weren’t too plain. It even glittered in the low light – faintly, anything more would be too gaudy for her tastes. It wasn’t anything too special, something just fancy enough to match the dress code. With some magic, her hair twisted obediently into a loose crown braid. She certainly wouldn’t have been able to do it manually. Before she’d left, Daphne (dressed to the nines in top-of-the-line designer robes) had weaved some flowers into her hair before nodding approvingly and ushering her out.

Dual wolf whistles sounded out as she approached the doors to the Great Hall. Knowing who she’d find there, Heather turned around. She was wholly unsurprised to see her two best friends dramatically kneeling before her.

“Our princess! We beseech you to-”

“-abandon your intended and abscond with us!”

Playing along, she put a hand to her heart. “Alas, my faithful knights, I cannot. For I am devoted with all my heart.”

Fred sprang to his feet, in time with George. “You never _did_ tell us who your date was.”

“Anyone we know?”

“Your _Prince_ , perhaps?” They leered teasingly at her.

“Yeah, we wanna know who-”

“-the ponce you ditched us for is.” They honestly felt a little peeved that Heather had rejected their invitation to the ball. It’d have been totally awesome to go as a threesome! Imagine all the scandalous looks they’d have gotten.

“Gee, Fred and George. Never knew you felt that way about me.”

Heather turned at the sound of Hadrian’s voice to see that he had finally arrived, with Ronald in tow.

“You mean that _you’re_ -”

“-Heather’s date?”

Heather and her brother both nodded. She threw a questioning look at the twins for the relieved looks they sported.

“At least we won’t-”

“-have to threaten your date.”

“I guess we won’t be needing these.” To her mixed horror and amusement, they removed shackles and a blindfold from the wide sleeves of their robes and banished them.

Rolling her eyes, she accepted Rian’s arm and walked into the hall. Fred and George would go in once their own dates had arrived.

Professor McGonagall immediately waved them over to the table reserved for champions and their dates. They would wait there until it was time for the first dance to start. Cedric was already there, with Cho Chang. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes again. Just when she thought the Hufflepuff Prefect couldn’t get any more oblivious. Anyone with eyes could see that the Ravenclaw seeker was smitten with him. Just what was he thinking? Unless he wasn’t serious about her Hadrian, in which case she would cheerfully hex him six ways from Samhain.

“Hey Hadrian! You look fantastic!” the older boy greeted enthusiastically, completely stopping his conversation with Chang. He only had eyes for her brother. (As it should be.) Heather waited patiently for him to realise who Rian’s date was. When it became clear he wouldn’t turn from Hadrian anytime soon, she cleared her throat delicately and made her own greetings.

“Heather?! You’re Hadrian’s date?” Cedric said, in clear shock. Heather enjoyed his relieved expression immensely. Evidently, he’d been worried about Hadrian having an interest in someone else.

“It seems so,” she hummed nonchalantly. Taking pity on the poor Hufflepuff, she quickly engaged the Ravenclaw seeker in avid discussion. That way, Cedric could focus on Hadrian. She wasn’t _totally_ cruel…

Okay, it was only Rian’s pleading expression that made her do it. She had never been able to say no to him.

Cho turned out to be a pretty interesting conversationalist, showing her Ravenclaw intellect. Once she switched off her infatuated mode, that was. Sometime during the course of their chat, Fleur Delacour and her date, Roger Davies, had turned up. The only one left was Viktor, then. She wondered idly who he had invited to the ball.

Speak of the devil, there he was now. When Heather caught sight of his date, she smirked. Now she understood his frequent trips to the library.

Standing beside him was Hermione, all decked out in beautiful lavender dress robes. Her hair had been straightened and styled in an elegant French twist for the occasion. All in all, she looked worlds apart from the bookish and no-nonsense girl she usually came across as. Heather wanted to speak more to the younger witch, but she and her date sat at the far side of the table. Oh well, Hermione looked perfectly content where she was, anyway.

Now that the champions had all arrived, the Headmaster announced the start of the feast. Heather spent most of it continuing to divert Cho’s attention from Cedric. If Hadrian and Cedric didn’t stop being so obvious, everyone would know something was up. It wasn’t that she thought they should be ashamed of anything, but Hadrian was worried that people would think they were colluding in the tournament or something nefarious like that. She could definitely see these idiotic people assuming that if they were a couple.

Though they had to actually _be_ a couple for all that to happen. As it was, they were just dancing (no pun intended) awkwardly around each other.

Once they had finished their meals Professor McGonagall signalled for them to take their positions. Accepting Hadrian’s offered arm, she followed his lead. The band started playing and they began a slow waltz.

“You’re in top form tonight,” she commented as she was twirled gracefully across the floor.

Hadrian grinned impishly. “Well, y’see, I had this slave-driver of a teacher. She wouldn’t let up till I could do this flawlessly.”

“Hmm, sounds like this teacher was really effective then. Did you thank her?”

“Oh of course! Got her these really gorgeous obsidian knives. She’s a nutter for potions.”

Heather smiled at the mention of her Christmas present from Hadrian. They really were fabulous knives. Top of the market, inscribed with special runes and everything. She hoped to test them out soon.

As her brother spun her around, she caught a glimpse of Cedric and Cho nearby. The older boy’s gaze was practically glued to Rian. She held in a snicker. Really, no subtlety at all, those Puffs. She wondered if he would be able to gather the courage to make his move. Her brother certainly wasn’t going to. For all that he was a Gryff, her Rian wasn’t one to take the first step in a relationship. Neither was she. Darkly, thoughts of the Dursleys flashed in her mind.

She snapped out of her funk as the music slowed to a stop. Now that the obligatory first dance was done, they didn’t actually have to continue. Not that Heather would let her brother retire to a shadowy corner for the rest of the evening. She had _plans_. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied Cedric making his way over.

So did her brother, evidently. He shot a glance at her and his face unconsciously fell. Hadrian had obviously gotten the wrong idea. After that one time when Cedric had asked to talk to her in the Great Hall, she had barely managed to convince her brother that he had no intentions towards her. However, she hadn’t said anything about his intentions towards _Hadrian_. That was better told to him by Cedric himself.

Just as Cedric approached them, Hadrian tried to excuse himself. Heather held on to him, preventing his escape. They had better thank her for this later. It would be a great story to tell one day.

“H-hey, Hadrian,” Cedric said nervously. “And Heather,” he added belatedly.

With a strained smile, Hadrian returned the greeting. He did _not_ want to watch his sister and his crus- _friend_ hook up. A flash of despair had him immediately feeling ashamed of himself. He should be over the moon. Cedric was a great guy and Heather deserved only the best. Cedric had been staring at her all night. He couldn’t blame him; Heather looked awesome in her snow-white robes. He might be biased, but he thought she was the most beautiful girl here.

“Well I was wondering,” Cedric said, tugging restlessly at the hem of his sleeves, “if you would like to dance…with me?”

His heart clenched painfully as he looked away. Surely Heather would accept. Cedric was one of the most popular guys in school. Handsome, kind and smart, to boot. Heather had told him that the Hufflepuff wasn’t interested in her, but she wasn’t the most observant when it came to herself. She didn’t even notice that almost everyone’s eyes had been on her when they entered the Great Hall earlier. Despite all those invitations to the ball, Heather still thought she wasn’t all that well-liked!

He was startled out of his thoughts by a sharp nudge to his side. Confused, he looked down at his sister who was giving him a pointed look. ‘What?’ he mouthed at her. She rolled her eyes and nodded towards Cedric. Hadrian turned back to the older boy.

“So, what do you say, Hadrian?” The older boy looked even more nervous than before.

“Huh?” Hadrian asked. Great, he groaned inwardly. How eloquent.

“He asked you to dance with him!” his sister whispered, mouth twitching upwards. The amused glint in her eyes told him how much she was enjoying this.

Stunned, he looked at Cedric again. He was beginning to feel very foolish with all his swivelling and not saying anything. Another jab from Heather made him stutter out an acceptance.

Hadrian watched in amazement as Cedric broke out into a stunning smile, grey eyes lighting up. His face heated up and he ducked his head. Heather was snickering silently at him, he knew it.

“Good thing I made you learn both roles, huh?” his sister commented flippantly. Her expression told a different story. He narrowed his eyes at her. She’d _known_ this was going to happen. A sudden thought occurred to him and he frowned in dismay.

“We’ll be too obvious. Everyone will be staring at us. Champions aren’t supposed to be involved, are they?” Cedric’s face fell in disappointment, as did his own. They wouldn’t be able to dance together after all. That darned Skeeter wouldn’t miss the chance to slander him. He could see it now – ‘Boy-Who-Lied and Hufflepuff Hustler Rigging Tournament!’

Heather, who had been looking around the hall, smiled slyly when she caught sight of someone. “Leave it to me. You just need something to distract everyone.” She gazed meaningfully at Rian. “And a little _misdirection_ wouldn’t go amiss.” Her brother’s understanding look told her he’d gotten the hint to cast a few discreet spells. “You’ll know when.” Nodding at the two, she strode across the hall. There was someone she had to track down.

Walking up to the person standing by the doors, she grinned. “Hello Professor Snape. Lovely evening, isn’t it?”

~~~

Severus stalked down the corridor, glaring irritably. This evening was going to be wretched. He would have been content making rounds and catching errant students, but Albus had all but ordered, in that deceivingly mild tone of his, that he turn up for the ball itself.

_‘Just for a dance or two, Severus. It will be fun!’_

He scoffed, disgusted, at the very notion. He would show up at the blasted thing, but even Albus could not force him to dance. Upon entering the Great Hall, he was bombarded by the vision of teenage revelry. Sneering, he made for the shadowed corner near the door. All the better to leave as soon as possible. Then, through no intention of his own, his eyes were drawn to a trio of students.

Heather Lyra stood with her brother and the Diggory boy, who was presumedly her companion for tonight. For reasons unclear to him, his mood darkened further. He glowered at the group, though he could not seem to look away. He recalled a certain incident in this very same hall where the boy had extended his stuttered invitation to her. Severus would have thought that Heather would have better taste than that fumbling boy.

Forcing his attention away from the oh so _charming_ scene, he sought Albus out with his gaze. He found him dancing merrily with the Beauxbaton Headmistress. The difference in stature between the two made a bizarre sight. He made certain to catch Albus’ eye so that he knew Severus had indeed attended the ball. Once this dance ended, his employer would surely insist on trying to cajole him into a dance. Perhaps Minerva would be a tolerable partner.

A glimpse of white had him turning to the side. To his surprise, Heather had parted from her paramour and was walking in his direction. She weaved easily around her schoolmates, ignoring their hopeful stares and envious looks. Closer up, Severus found himself momentarily stunned by the sight. She was a vision in her pure white robes with her hair done up in some sort of braid.

A more poetic man than he might say that she looked like a nymph emerged from the Forbidden Forest to grace the mortals with her presence for the night.

The shimmering garment flowed around her as she glided towards him. And it was him that she was approaching, for she was now much too close for it to be anyone else.

He wondered where and when that tiny waif with messy black hair had been replaced by this beguiling young woman.

“Hello Professor Snape. Lovely evening, isn’t it?”

A feeling reminiscent of ice-cold water washed over him. _Professor_. He scowled at himself inwardly. What had he been thinking? Clearing his mind, he nodded at his _student_ – he forcibly reminded himself. “Miss Potter,” he said, nodding in greeting, as he swallowed the ‘Heather’ that wanted to escape from his traitorous tongue. “ _That_ is debatable.”

The _girl_ smirked coyly, looking at him through her lashes. What was she doing? “Not enjoying the ball, sir? It’s been wonderful for me so far.”

Of course it had been. No doubt she had been thoroughly charmed by her date. Which gave him cause to wonder why she was even here. He said as much to her.

“That’s a funny story, actually. But first, would you like to dance with me?”

Several students nearby stumbled over nothing at the pronouncement. Severus was unsure whether he would have fared better had he been walking. What was his – no, _not_ his – Slytherin thinking? He caught the gleam in her eyes as she whispered, “I’ll tell you what this is all about on the dance floor?”

Blasted wretch knew he would be curious enough to take the bait. Sighing, he offered his arm wordlessly. Heather beamed and followed his lead towards the centre of the hall. If he had read her correctly, she wanted this to be visible. Her excessive volume when asking him to dance had definitely been purposeful.

Keeping a careful distance between them, he began the dance. “Would you care to explain your sudden attention-seeking?” He had noticed her satisfaction when she saw that everyone was staring at them with various degrees of subtlety.

“Doesn’t every girl want to be the centre of attention at a ball?” She fluttered her lashes and pretended to preen.

Withholding a bark of laughter ( _that_ was sure to garner even more attention), he settled for raising a brow. “You, Miss Potter, are not just every girl.” He cursed inwardly at how that came out. It tasted too much like a compliment.

She seemed to pick that up. “Careful, Professor, that sounded almost like praise.” Severus simply looked at her and waited for the explanation she had promised.

“Okay, okay. I need to create a distraction. The more people paying attention to us, the better.”

_That_ he could believe. Nothing would draw attention more than the belle of the ball dancing with the beast of the dungeons. He smirked self-deprecatingly. “Ahh. There _is_ a reason that the Beauty and the Beast is a classic.”

Heather frowned heavily at the comment. “I am hardly a great beauty and you, sir, are certainly no beast. You look rather dashing in those robes. Is that _colour_ I see?”

He disregarded her first comment. She didn’t see herself very clearly despite her observant nature. “The Headmaster’s doing. All my black robes were mysteriously transfigured into these green things.” She chuckled at that, for the green could only be seen if the light shone on it in a particular way, and only if one were to look very closely. Still, it was more colour than he wore in a year. “Back to the topic at hand. What are you trying to distract the sheeple from?”

She looked around, appearing to be searching for someone. Her head tilted slightly, directing his eyes. Oddly enough, his gaze kept sliding away from the area. “Focus on them. Try to block out the distraction,” Heather murmured.

Once he forced through the fog, he took in the unlikely sight of the Boy-Who-Lived dancing with Cedric Diggory. Nonplussed, he looked at his own partner. She was looking wistfully at the couple, an odd smile on her lips.

“You are letting your date dance with your brother instead?” Well, he was hardly known for being very sensitive regarding matters of the heart.

Brows furrowed in confusion, Heather said, “What are you talking about? My date _is_ my brother.”

That was unexpected. Severus had been mistaken this whole time. So Diggory had not led her on to get close to her brother. There went his plans of all the detentions he could give the boy.

Abruptly, she giggled. “You thought we were in some sort of convoluted love triangle? Oh Salazar! That was exactly what Hadrian thought too, you know.” Fantastic, he was being compared to her younger brother now. Once her mirth had settled, she continued, “I was just wondering when he had grown up without my knowing.” Funny, he had been wondering the exact same for her. “Seeing him complete the task without my help started my realisation. This has just really hammered it in. I guess he can’t stay my baby Rian forever.”

That same half-sad smile again. “That was why I asked Hadrian to the ball, you know. I told myself it was to save him the embarrassment of having to ask a girl. But truly? I just wasn’t ready for him to leave me behind.” She seemed to come back to herself, shaking her head. Grimacing sheepishly, she said, “Sorry, you didn’t need to hear me angst like that, sir.”

After some consideration, Severus said, stiltedly, “Rest assured, Mr Potter will trail after you, puppy-like, well into adulthood. Black certainly did so with your father, and they were not even blood-siblings. Gryffindors are like that, I am afraid.” He grimaced as he mentioned his two tormentors.

The resulting laugh was somehow enough to drive away the dark feeling that mentions of Potter Senior and Black always brought forward.

~~~

The music slowed to a stop and Professor Snape stepped back. Blinking, Heather looked around and saw that the other pairs were walking off the dance floor. She turned back to the Professor. “Thank you for the dance, sir. I had a marvellous time.”

“Dance _s_ , Miss Potter,” he corrected imperiously. “Three, to be exact.”

_Three_? How had she not noticed that? Where had the time gone? “Time flies when you’re having fun,” she murmured.

The Professor scoffed. “Nonsense. Time passed in much the same manner as on any other day. I believe what you meant was that your perception of time had changed.”

She stifled a laugh at his criticism of the muggle turn of phrase. “Of course. My mistake, sir.”

Nodding, the man said curtly, “I shall be taking my leave now. Good evening, Miss Potter.” With that, he turned and strode out of the hall. Heather was amused to note that he could make even his heavier dress robes billow impressively.

The start of a new song startled her out of her daze. Despite her steadily warming cheeks, she smiled to herself. She’d gotten to enjoy her first ball after all.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spied Ron advancing angrily towards Hermione and Viktor. Whoops, better defuse the situation before Hadrian was dragged into it by his friends. She gestured for her brother to sneak out of the hall with Cedric as she quickly walked over to where a loud argument was already brewing.

Nothing would ruin this night for her brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on my tumblr [here](https://lunarlooroo.tumblr.com)!


	59. Reality Check

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! Short flashback of attempted sexual assault. Please skip the italicised portion if you don't want to read it.

Emerald eyes watched balefully as the two boys leaned closer to each other. Any closer and a certain Hufflepuff Prefect would be finding himself without hair overnight. Heather sighed into the book she was pretending to read. Her brother hadn’t even noticed when she entered the library.

She’d been afraid of this. Hadrian and Cedric had been nigh inseparable since the Yule Ball. She had hardly been alone with Rian since. Even then, it was always ‘Cedric this’ and ‘Cedric that’.

And no matter what Fred and George said, she was _not_ sulking.

When Rian chuckled _again_ , Heather shut her book with a huff and stood to leave. It was about time for her to meet Professor Snape anyway.

Even as she walked down the familiar path to the dungeons, her mind stayed stuck on the blissful scene she had just left.

Her logical mind told her that it was only natural for Hadrian to be a little fixated right now. It was his first relationship after all. She’d even encouraged him! Still, knowing all that didn’t help her feelings. She had even glared at Cedric the other day for no reason at all! Not that she was feeling particularly charitable towards him at the moment. Still lost in her thoughts, she entered Professor Snape’s office.

“Miss Potter, pay attention! I have better things to do with my time than to be stared at gormlessly by students,” the man snapped.

Giving him a chastised look, she straightened and apologised. She couldn’t afford to be distracted for these lessons. Her occlumentic shields might be coming along smoothly, but they still couldn’t hold up against Professor Snape’s attacks when she wasn’t focussed. The full _Legilimens_ attack was far from the earlier surface scans they had been practicing with.

Quick as a whip, he brandished his wand and incanted, “ _Legilimens!”_

Heather’s mind scrambled to shore up her defences against the piercing attack. Whether it was because of her earlier preoccupation or the Professor’s irritation making his attack stronger, her shields crumbled after an admirable attempt at resistance.

She forced herself to stay calm and tried to exert pressure on the foreign presence in her mind, just like the book had explained. Then she noticed which of her memories was surfacing and paled drastically. She saw her four-year-old self being slapped because she had burnt the eggs. That was before she had properly learnt how to cook. Frantically, she tried to bury it with trivial thoughts and ramblings. Unfortunately, Professor Snape was adamant. Like a dam that had broken, snippets of life under the ‘tender’ care of the Dursleys started rushing across her mind’s eye.

_Shielding Hadrian from being pelted by stones._

_Flinching because her sunburnt skin was being doused with high pressure hose water._

_Passing the only piece of toast to Hadrian despite her aching hunger._

_Being shoved back inside the cupboard. Again and again._

Then, to her horror, the most recent memory yet _. Pinned to the wall. Hand circling her neck, gripping and choking. Sweaty palms running across her skin. Disgust and fear. The crippling fear._

_‘Only one good use for ya, whore.’_

~~~

When the first memory came forth, Severus pressed his advantage, waiting to see if Heather would be able to push him out. It took a while for him to realise what he was seeing. He watched the flashing images in growing dread. He should stop, should pull out from her mind.

It was like an imminent broom wreck one couldn’t resist watching.

He thought he had known about Heather’s home life before now. She had told him about it herself. At the time, he had wished that what she said wasn’t true. Now, he only wished it was. Frequent starvation and the occasional hit was the extent of what she’d mentioned. Her actual treatment at the hands of those mangy cur was much worse than that. They had systematically beaten her down physically, mentally and emotionally.

Then, one more memory started playing. He watched as the disgusting muggle strangled Heather while restraining her. He felt sick, taking in the size difference between the whale of a man and the tiny girl. Sicker still, when he realised the vile pig’s intentions. Too revolted even, to dredge up any anger, though he knew that it would come later.

The sudden push that forced him out of her mind also forced him back to reality. Cold washed over him as he took in the frightened young woman staring blankly at him. He made an aborted movement towards her, stopping when she flinched and whimpered.

Heart – and fists – clenching, he backed away carefully. Of course she was terrified. Not only was he male, he was the one who had brought up her traumatic memories. And if she had been…violated, she would not want him anywhere near her. He found himself at a loss of what to do.

Heather soon took the decision out of his hands. A thick blast of magic burst from her, spreading out across the room. He braced himself for impact, having no time to even throw up a shield. To his surprise, all he felt was some light pressure as the magic rushed around him, as if forming a cocoon. His office was not nearly so fortunate, however. The room resembled the site of a tornado once the magic had dissipated.

Her eyes closed as she swayed lightly. Alarmed, Severus instinctively shot forward to catch her when she fell. The tiny flinch reminded him painfully that he should have stayed away – _far_ away. Berating himself harshly in his mind, he tried to shift away. A tug on his sleeve caused him to freeze in his tracks.

“Don’t… Stay, please?” Wide green eyes beseeched him. “Just for a while.” Lower lip trembling.

No one with a heart could resist such a plea. And despite all evidence to the contrary, Severus Tobias Snape _did_ have a heart. Heather needed comfort. He would be damned if he didn’t try his best now, when he had failed so miserably thus far. He raised his wand (and wasn’t it gratifying that she did not recoil at all?) to clear out some of the rubble. If they were going to do this, it wouldn’t be in this wreckage.

“Sorry,” a whispered word. Bewildered, he looked down at her. She was staring at the mess in what appeared to be remorse.

“Do not apologise, you twit,” he said curtly. Then grimaced. He was no shoulder to cry on, that much was evident.

“Sorry,” she said again, this time with a hint of cheek. Despite the ashen look on her face, Severus counted that as a success.

“Insolent,” he quipped. The corners of her mouth turned up. If nothing else, his prickliness proved to be good for this. Unfortunately, witty repartee was not what she needed. “Miss Pot-” He reconsidered the situation. “Heather,” he said tentatively. When no objection came, he continued, “How are you coping?” And _that_ was the best he could come up with?

“Sorry.” She grinned wanly at his pointed look. “I’m fine.” This time it was scepticism. “Really, I am! It was just really sudden. I’m over it already.”

“One does simply get over-” He stopped short when he realised he had no way to put it delicately.

“Assault, attack, attempted r-rape,” she tried to say blithely, though the stutter betrayed her. _Attempted_. Severus breathed an internal sigh of relief at that. Although attempts could be just as damaging as the act itself, one learnt to be thankful for the small mercies. “See, I can say it. I can acknowledge it. I can even alliterate it. I’m over it.” The tight grip on his arm attested to the contrary.

“Be that as it may, you clearly still have a strong reaction. How long ago has it been?” How long has that vile cretin walked around scot-free?

Reluctantly, she said, “Summer before my fourth year.” The disgusting beast. Doing that to a mere _child_!

“That was what prompted your sudden move.”

She tilted her chin up defiantly. “No, I had _that_ planned since second year. It just furthered my resolve. I couldn’t let Hadrian live in a house with that thing.”

Oh for the love of- There was no limit to how much she prioritised her brother over herself! “Very well. Have you spoken to anyone about this? Who else knows?” So help him, if Albus had known and _still_ insisted on sending them back there, Severus would find himself in Azkaban come tomorrow.

“Hadrian, obviously. Mr and Mrs Weasley have a vague idea. We escaped to the Burrow after that.” ‘That’ was the greatest understatement Severus had ever heard. “Fred and George know a bit more. I talked to them about it.” Again with the defiant look. “You see; I _have_ talked about it. Over. It,” she emphasised.

“Heather,” he said in exasperation, “that reaction earlier tells me otherwise.”

“I was caught by surprise,” she maintained doggedly.

“And if you are ‘surprised’ again?”

“I’ll deal with it.”

Stubborn little thing. “Or we can deal with it now so that it doesn’t happen again.” Belatedly, he realised his offer of aid. How was he supposed to accomplish that? He was likely a worse confidant than the blasted Weasley twins. They at least could comfort her.

“And how are we supposed to do that? Your Mastery was in Potions, not Healing, as I recall.”

Glaring insincerely at her, he said, “There are a few options. The first method is desensitisation. It is the cruellest one, but most efficient if you can stomach it. It involves watching the memory over and over again until you come to terms with it and stop being affected by it.”

“I don’t like it.”

“The best Potions are the most bitter.”

“Next?”

“The second method is to weed out the root of the problem. In other words, I have this irreversible castration curse that is quite unknown, but should be easy enough for you to learn. The best thing about it is that it causes more pain the more magic is used in the spell.” If what he suspected about her magic was correct, then Dursley was in for a world of pain.

That startled a laugh out of her. “ _This_ I like.”

“I thought you would.”

“Is there another method?” she asked in amusement.

He took a deep breath. “As the Slytherin Head of House, I have the dubious honour of acting as a disciplinarian, confidant and nursemaid to all Slytherins. If you should so choose to, I suppose I am obliged to listen to your worries and provide sound advice.” Testily, he added, “That is not to say I will be pleased if you decide to unload on me your petty concerns about any infatuations you have and the like. I will, however, not turn you away should you decide you wish to speak when you have troubles.”

Silence reigned. Severus cursed himself for offering that last suggestion at all. Had he basically just offered himself up as her, what, counsellor? It was true that one of the best ways of dealing with trauma was talking about and coming to terms with it. Occlumency could only go so far. It would be dangerous to suppress all of one’s bad memories as this could lead to an abrupt mental breakdown from the strain. However, he was far from being an ideal listening ear. As Heather was surely all too aware of. And yet, he had still put that option out there.

“I think-” A pause. She was likely trying to phrase her rejection in a polite manner. “-I like that best of all.”

Surprised, Severus glanced at her. The soft smile that lit her face chased away the lingering shadows from the memories that she’d relived.

His wayward heart suddenly decided to pump at rapid-fire speeds. A sudden illness perhaps. Concerned green eyes stared up at him. He realised with a start that he had been staring at her for longer than was appropriate. Clearing his throat, he said, “You always were a peculiar one.”

He felt her shrug. Wait, _felt_? Taking stock of himself, he noticed that she was close, very close. Right in his arms, in fact. Alarmed, he took a quick step back and withdrew his traitorous limbs. That Heather had given a little sigh at that meant nothing at all.

“You should be heading back to the dorms. Curfew is in 10 minutes.” Yes, curfew. For students. Heather Potter was a student. A sixth year. He did not require the reminder, of course.

Another sigh. Perhaps she was tired. Of course she was, after that upheaval.

“So I can come talk to you if I need to?”

He raised a brow. “It is not a habit of mine to give empty promises.”

“And we can continue our lessons still?”

“I believe their necessity has actually increased after today.”

“Okay…” She lingered in front of the door. One would think she was actually reluctant to leave. But that was simply preposterous.

“5 minutes, Hea- Miss Potter.”

A flash of emotion flitted across her eyes, too quickly for him to decipher. “Good night, Professor. And thank you.” She then shut the door behind her.

“Good night Heather,” he whispered to the empty air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So I'll be reverting back to updates every two weeks instead of one after next week's update. Unfortunately, my holidays are soon to be over. Thank you for the patience and support!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr [here](https://lunarlooroo.tumblr.com)!


	60. What You'll Sorely Miss

It had been several weeks since that eventful Occlumency lesson with Professor Snape. Heather had taken the man up on his offer to talk a few times since then. She’d expected it to be awkward meeting after all that, especially to talk about something so sensitive, and in a way, had been. She did feel a little uncomfortable at first, but she soon eased into it.

While she had spoken to Fred and George about the Dursley incident, she hadn’t really talked about how she felt, just described what happened. It had been something of a relief to let out all her pent-up frustration, fear and, yes, even hate. It was amazingly cathartic. Professor Snape was a comforting and steady presence by her side as she just ranted on. And she felt much closer to the man after each ‘therapy’ session.

In fact, there was a whole gamut of emotions she felt around him now. An odd combination of anticipation, nervousness and contentment, to name a few. It was a confusing mix.

She’d first become aware of it during the Yule Ball. Dancing with the Professor had been a great pleasure, even though she’d mostly suggested it as a way to help Rian. She’d felt inordinately tense throughout the evening. Not a bad kind of tense, although she didn’t know how ‘tense’ could be good. It was difficult to explain. If asked about the events during the ball, she wouldn’t have been able to mention anything outside of her dances with Professor Snape, so absorbed she had been.

Then there had been that lesson. He’d witnessed some of her more distasteful childhood memories. And then there was _that_ memory. She was ashamed to say that she’d overreacted. Badly. She thought she’d gotten over it long ago. Apparently not. According to the Professor, that was. She’d been afriad the man would be angry for her lapse in control. After all, wasn’t that what these Occlumency lessons were for? For her to control her emotions better? Merlin, she was messed up.

Professor Snape hadn’t done that, though. He’d _comforted_ her. She could still feel the reassuring weight of his arms around her. His words may have been curt and sharp, but the gentleness of his touch belied them. She hadn’t been able to help the sharp pang of disappointment when he let her go.

And the way he said her name. It had been almost…hesitant, which was strange to hear in such a forceful man. She liked it, a little too much. She doubted anyone else could quite say her name with such tenderness and care. It was a pity that he hadn’t called her name again, reverting right back to the more proper ‘Miss Potter’.

She sighed, staring blankly at her book. Unbeknownst to her, it was the fifth time in as many minutes.

Across from Heather, Fred and George looked at each other. Their friend looked the very picture of a pining maiden.

“Heather!” They snapped their fingers in her face.

Jerking to attention, she looked up at her friends. “What is it?”

“Oh nothing, we just-”

“-interrupted you while-”

“-you were mooning-”

“-over your Half-Blood Prince.”

Heather frowned. “No I wasn’t. First, I don’t know who this Prince is. Second, I do not _moon_.”

“Moon-”

“-daydream-”

“-swoon-”

“-fantasise-”

“-whatever you want to call it.”

She most definitely was _not._ And certainly not about her Prince, either.

~~~

In an abandoned classroom in Gryffindor Tower, green eyes diligently read through the advanced spellbook. So far, none of the spells were useful for what he needed. A hand on his shoulder made him look up. He smiled brightly at the welcome interruption.

“Heya Cedric!” Hadrian chirped. He blushed lightly, still bashful in regards to the handsome older boy. They’d danced at the ball, and even held hands a time or two. But he didn’t really know where they stood.

“Hi there Hadrian. Working on the Second Task?” Cedric took a seat next to him. Was it his imagination or had he pulled the chair closer than was necessary?

“Yeah, not much progress though.” He frowned lightly in thought. Perhaps Janwick’s book would prove more helpful. Heather had once recommended it, after all. His frown deepened slightly at the thought. He wanted to not have to rely on her, but even when she wasn’t helping, she _was_.

The Hufflepuff leaned closer. Hadrian’s eyes widened at the move, heart fluttering all of a sudden. What was he-?

“Here’s a hint: take a bath.” That only made Hadrian flush further. Seeming to realise what he said, Cedric quickly added, “With the egg, I mean. Not with me. Because we’re not- I mean- Not that I don’t want to. Just that-” He took a deep breath. “We just got together, after all. It’s too soon. And you’re just fourteen.”

Eyes wide, Hadrian asked, “Together?”

“O-only if you want, I mean. I thought- After the dance. But-” the flustered Prefect sputtered.

Boldly, impulsively, Hadrian reached a hand out and covered the older boy’s. “I w-want to.” He could feel the searing heat in his face.

Cedric’s eyes lit up and he flipped his palm up to return the grip on his hand. “Great. _Brilliant_.”

Clearing his throat, Hadrian said, “Anyway, I know about the egg. “I‘ve heard the Mermish song. I’m trying to find a spell that will give me a boost in the water.” Incidentally, he couldn’t swim. At all. Fortunately, the gillyweed would prevent him from drowning. Thank Merlin for Neville’s interest in Herbology. He’d initially been worried about getting some because it was a restricted ingredient. Then he’d remembered that he knew NEWT Potions students that weren’t his sister. Despite their joking ways, he knew the twins were very reliable.

“Oh, that’s great! How did you figure that out? Merpeople are only covered in seventh year CoMC!”

Hadrian launched into the tale of how Ron had mentioned something about the egg sounding as grating as a werewolf howling. Then he’d wondered about creatures making that noise. Which led to him researching screeching creatures like bean sidhes and merpeople. After that, figuring the clue out had been a piece a cake. “I just got lucky, I guess,” he concluded.

Cedric shook his head. “No way. That was your own merit. You were smart enough to link it to creatures. I bet you would have made the connection even without Ron saying anything.”

“Well,” Hadrian said, trying to change the topic, “I need a spell that will augment my physical capabilities for that hour. I won’t be able to swim that quickly, I reckon.”

“Oh, I could help. If you don’t mind me using the spell we find too, that is.”

“I don’t mind. That’d be great, actually.” Hadrian looked critically at the book in his lap. “Not this book, though. I’ll need Jupiter Janwick’s.”

“Oh, I know where to find that! It’s in the Restricted Section, but I have a pass.” Cedric peered curiously at him. “How do you even know of it, anyway?”

Hadrian shrugged. “Heather mentioned it. Two years ago, I think. Said it was really comprehensive.”

Cedric whistled. “In her fourth year? They usually reserve the passes for seventh years. Or NEWT students, at least.” Lowering his voice, the older boy whispered, “To be honest, your sister scares me.”

Chuckling, Hadrian shook his head fondly as he thought of Heather. “She’s harmless.” Pausing, he reconsidered his statement. “Well, not really – she’s the very opposite, but only selected people need to worry about it. Don’t worry, you’re not one of them.”

Cedric looked at Hadrian dubiously. He didn’t quite believe him, especially when he recalled all the evil looks he’d received from the formidable witch since the Yule Ball. Something told him that Heather Potter could cause him _very_ severe harm given the right – or rather wrong – circumstances. Laughing nervously, Cedric tugged Hadrian to his feet. “Come on, we have a book to find.”

It was then they realised that they were still holding hands. Both blushed brightly as they let go. Studiously looking away from each other, they walked towards the library.

~~~

Standing in the frigid winter air in only swimming trunks, Hadrian thanked the existence of warming charms. Especially when another cold gale buffeted across Hogwarts grounds. He saw Fred and George approaching, identical worried expressions on their faces.

“Still no sign of Heather?” he asked anxiously.

They shook their heads. “We checked the Den, the library, the kitchens. She’s not in any of those places. And the map’s with her at the moment, so we can’t use it either.”

“Maybe she’s in a classroom reading some obscure book? Hermione isn’t here either. Maybe they’re together.”

“Nah, Heather goes to the Den for that. And she’d have to be held against her will or something to miss you doing the task.”

_Held against her will._ Suddenly, the pieces clicked in place. _We’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss… Too late it’s gone, it won’t come back_. Horror-struck, Hadrian looked desperately at the murky waters of Black Lake. “She’s been taken. That’s the Second Task!”

Before the twins could reply, Hadrian was ushered to the starting point. He ignored the opening speech, worried as he was for Heather’s safety. How dare they threaten his sister? This wasn’t just some dumb tournament anymore. This was Heather’s life! He tamped down on the anger that rose within him. He needed to be clearheaded. For Heather.

The moment he was given the signal, he sprang into action. In one smooth motion, he gulped down the gillyweed and cast the strength spell. Not even waiting for his gills to form, he dived headfirst into the lake. Thankfully, the changes occurred before he ran out of breath and he used his new appendages to take in much-needed oxygen.

He glided quickly through the water, using a Point Me spell to find his sister. Casting underwater was an odd experience, more sluggish. Almost like the water didn’t conduct magic as well as air. Then there was the issue of saying the spells. He simply pushed more magic through his wand, casting nonverbally. Now wasn’t the time to marvel at magical theories.

He encountered several vicious grindylows, but they proved no match for the stunning spells he sent their way. He didn’t want them hurt, just out of his way. The muddy water made visibility an all-time low, but he just swam on. At most, his obstacles would include seaweed and driftwood.

At last, he reached the Mermish village at the centre of the lakebed. He sped past the wary Merpeople, almost daring them to make a move. Nothing would stop him from getting to Heather. He finally spotted several people tied to wooden posts in the middle of the village. His heart skipped a beat when he saw that they were still and unconscious.

He pushed himself faster, reaching Heather in record time. Trembling, he felt for her pulse. A beat, then another. Slow, but present. Sighing in an explosion of bubbles, he quickly untied Heather from the ropes that bound her. He was about to leave with her when he glanced towards the other hostages. To his shock he saw Hermione nearby, as well as Cho Chang and a young girl he didn’t recognise. The instinct to get his sister to safety warred with his reluctance to leave anyone in danger.

He looked around. None of the Champions were nearby. Every second he spent deliberating brought them all closer to certain demise. Grimly, he made his decision. He released all the others from their bonds. The Mers tried to stop him, probably because he was taking the other Champions’ hostages too, but he batted them away with a few _Flipendo_ s.

He then used the rope to tie all four of them together and cast a featherlight charm. Praying that it would work underwater, he was relieved when the four people floated higher and higher due to their diminished weight. He grabbed hold of the rope and gathered up a large burst of magic.

‘ _Ascendio!’_ he thought fiercely.

Like a rocket, Hadrian was propelled upwards through the water. He clenched his fist tighter around the rope, refusing to let go. The resistance caused by the four people he was dragging along meant that he had to channel more magic to maintain the spell. Thank goodness he’d had the foresight to charm them lighter beforehand. His vision improved as he got closer to the light shining above him. Finally, he broke the surface of the water, panting at both the physical and magical strain. He used the last of his energy to swim from the centre of the lake to the shore.

Limbs trembling in exhaustion, he was grateful for the people that helped him pull up the rope that was dragging the hostages. He refused the offer of rest, though. He wanted to see to Heather personally. Whatever spell that was keeping them unconscious broke upon reaching land, thankfully.

When Heather’s eyes fluttered open, he about collapsed in relief. Groggily, she sat up and looked around in confusion.

“Second Task. Captured. Safe now,” he managed to pant out. Safe and uninjured and _alive_.

“Oh Rian,” she breathed out. “Well done, you were – _are_ – amazing.” Her arms caught him in a comforting embrace. Here, with his sister, Hadrian finally allowed himself to relax. Shutting his eyes, he succumbed to oblivion.

_Safe now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a nightmare to write. I had a hard time imagining how Hadrian would handle this task. I didn't want to make him seem too overpowered, but at the same time I felt that this wasn't out of his capabilities. Though does this mean the other champions didn't get any points for this task? I'm not sure.
> 
> What did you think? Was it unreasonable or impossible for Hadrian to save all the hostages this way? Feel free to leave any comments below!
> 
> As mentioned in the previous chapter notes, the posting schedule will return to every alternate week. So the next chapter will be posted on 12 August.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr [here](https://lunarlooroo.tumblr.com)!


	61. Sneaks and Intruders

As her brother slumped bonelessly against her, Heather reached out sluggishly to encircle him in her arms. Once she had ascertained that there was nothing wrong with him, she looked blearily around her. Her mind was cloudy, as if stuffed full of cotton. That alone rang alarm bells in her head. A sleeping draught? A knock-out jinx? What had happened? Last she knew, she’d been heading towards an early breakfast, wanting to spend some time with Hadrian before the Second Task.

WAIT! The task!

In lieu of trying to keep still for her unconscious brother, her fingers twitched violently in panic. It was then that she noted the buzz going on around them. She looked up when a warm towel was placed around her shoulders.

It was Madam Pomfrey, who patted her reassuringly before moving towards another young girl blinking in confusion nearby. Heather didn’t recognise her, but she seemed somehow familiar. Next to the girl was Hermione and Cho, who were in similar states of disorientation.

What in blazes was going on?

For some reason, they were gathered around the edges of the Black Lake. It was only when Fleur Delacour stumbled out of the murky waters crying frantically that Heather’s mind finally caught up with what her brother had said before passing out.

_‘Second Task. Captured. Safe now.’_

If she understood that correctly, the four of them had been held captive as part of the task. The champions had probably been asked to rescue them.

She wracked her head for any recollection of her capture. How could she have just let that happen? Her occlumency training came in handy in this situation, allowing her to easily locate the memory she wanted. Let not the power of a well-organised mind be underestimated.

She watched the memory play out.

~~~

_Heather left her common room quietly in deference to the early hour. She was frowning in thought, worried about what task her brother would have to face in a few hours. As per his request, she had washed her hands off of all of the tournament business. As such, she had no clue at all what the Second Task would entail. She just hoped Hadrian had a plan for it._

_As she neared the exit of the dungeons, the back of her neck prickled. Someone was following her. She stretched her senses out, pinpointing the sources of foreign magic. Make that several someones._

_With a subtle movement, her wand shot out of her robes sleeve and into her palm. She knew that it was unlikely that any truly malicious characters could have snuck into Hogwarts, but it wasn’t impossible. Sirius had done it, after all, and no one had known he was innocent at the time._

_Goosebumps erupted over her flesh when she sensed a burst of concentrated magic hurtling towards her. A silent spell. She spun out of the way, smoothly ducking out of the path of another spell. With the same motion, she shot out stunners towards where the spells had come from. Twin thuds told her that she had aimed true._

_Now for the three other people. She threw up a shield just in time for a jet of crimson to bounce against it uselessly. The group was gradually closing in on her. The spells they’d used so far weren’t deadly, just for incapacitation. That didn’t comfort her in the least, but at least she knew they weren’t aiming to outright harm her. She couldn’t say she had the same compunctions._

_She dodged and blocked several more spells, sending out a volley of her own that ended up downing two more of her unknown assailants. Just one left, then. She quickly cast a few binding spells towards the man, making them extra tight as a way to vent some of her irritation. Now to send for some help. She wanted to know what these idiots were trying to do._

_Just as she began to wonder how she would call for help, she sensed a very familiar magical presence nearby. Well, that was convenient._

_“Apologies, no time to explain.”_

_Confused, she turned towards him and came face-to-tip with his wand. That blimey old co-_

_The last thing she saw was the bright red of Dumbledore’s stunner._

~~~

Why that damnable old codger! Heather growled to herself after watching her memory. How dare that man? Her gaze scoured the crowd for the Headmaster, darkening in anger when she found him standing next to Bagman in his usual garish robes.

Oh, she’d be having _words_ with him. Most definitely of the spellcasting variety.

She couldn’t believe she’d let that old man get the drop on her! What was it Moody preached? Ah yes, _CONSTANT VIGILANCE!_ Maybe the paranoid ex-auror was on to something after all.

The Beauxbaton Champion running towards the little girl next to Heather snapped her out of her thoughts. They started whispering fervently to each other in French, hugging and crying. Sisters, maybe. So if the young blonde was Fleur’s hostage, then she would be Hadrian’s. She supposed Hermione would be Viktor’s and Cho, Cedric’s.

So where were the other two champions?

Spying Fred and George trying to push their way through the crowd, Heather used some magic to clear a path for them. It was a neat trick, especially when she wanted to traverse a crowded area. They promptly made their way towards her once free of the mass, worried looks on their faces.

They started babbling as soon as they came within earshot, not even bothering to trade off their sentences. Which meant that they were speaking exactly in sync. It garnered more than a few amazed looks.

Heather was finally able to reassure them enough to tell them exactly what had happened the previous night. It was safe to say that they were far from impressed.

“Old Dumbles has another thing coming, if he thinks he can just abduct people without explanation,” Fred and George both said, scowling up a storm.

“Exactly! The man has had one lemon drop too many, I think. How difficult would it have been to just summon me to his office and explain the situation?” Heather got even more enraged when she remembered how young Fleur’s hostage was. She only looked about eight or so! They’d better not have done the same thing to her! The poor girl would have been terrified!

Just then, a loud alarm spell rang out.

“The hour’s-”

“-up then.” The twins had finally calmed down enough to revert to their regular speech pattern.

“What hour?” Heather asked.

“The task had a time limit of an hour. Of course, that was-”

“-moot when Hadrian here returned with all the hostages.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. Huh, so that explained Cedric and Viktor’s absences. “The other two are still in there?”

“Yup!” they answered, popping the ‘p’ loudly.

An employee from the Department of Magical Games and Sports was sent to retrieve the two remaining champions. Meanwhile, the panel of judges began to discuss the points to award each competitor.

Heather ignored them in favour of reinforcing the warming charm on her towel and draping it over her brother. She also asked her fellow hostages how they had been notified of their roles. Apparently all three Hogwarts students had been ambushed that morning without any warning. It was a small consolation that Gabrielle Delacour (Fleur’s younger sister and hostage for the task) had been well-informed of it the night before by the Beauxbaton Headmistress instead of being attacked out of the blue.

“…should be disqualified!” Headmaster Karkaroff shouted angrily, “He didn’t follow the task parameters!”

“Now, now, Igor,” Dumbledore said placatingly, “There are technically no rules about rescuing other hostages. In fact, Hadrian should be rewarded for doing more than the task called for.”

Heather’s ears perked up at the mention of her brother. She glared at the Durmstrang Headmaster for trying to put down Hadrian. He had tried to do that for the First Task too.

Well, that reminded her. She had a bone to pick with Dumbledore.

Entrusting Hadrian to Fred and George, she stood and walked over to the group of judges and Professors.

“Excuse me, may I please speak with Headmaster Dumbledore please?”

Karkaroff looked at her with scorn, but Dumbledore turned to her with polite curiosity.

“How may I assist you, Heather? As you can see, we are in a bit of a quandary here. Might this wait for a while later?”

“Unfortunately, Headmaster, I have a few concerns that I feel would be best addressed as soon as possible,” Heather said neutrally, her expression not giving anything away.

Worry flitted across the old man’s face. “Oh? That seems rather ominous. Would you prefer some privacy to speak?”

Heather shook her head. “Oh, no need to trouble yourself, sir. Where we are is fine.” When Dumbledore gestured for her to speak, she tilted her head and said, “I’d just like to ask why you felt it necessary to attack me with a group of five adult wizards this morning for the task when simply informing me in advance would have served just as well.”

Most of the people around did a double take at her words, Dumbledore included. He probably hadn’t anticipated her confronting him so publically.

Without giving him a chance to rebut, she continued, “I probably wouldn’t have been so concerned had I been the only one. However, I found out that both Hermione and Cho had similar experiences. I was especially worried by Hermione. While she is a very capable witch, she is still only a fourth year and not even of age. Hogwarts was supposed to be a safe and protected place for young magicals.” A bit more heatedly, she added, “By being assaulted and ambushed within her walls, our faith and trust in Hogwarts has been shaken.” _By you_ , was left unsaid but heard anyway.

“I was relieved to find out that Gabrielle had a gentler introduction to her role as a hostage for the task. Headmistress Maxime simply explained to her the situation and got her permission to put her under a Sustained Slumber spell. That seems like a _much_ more effective way to go about things,” Heather said, looking pointedly at Dumbledore.

“Heather, my girl,” her eye twitched at the endearment Dumbledore used, “it was not my intention to frighten anyone or make you feel unsafe in Hogwarts, but I apologise if I have done so. There was no time for me to explain the situation.”

“Thank you for the apology, Headmaster, but surely there was time yesterday to brief us on the situation, if not this morning. It was an enormous violation that the hostages were involved without their permission at all! While most of the champions had signed up for the tournament, the hostages did not and were taken against their will. It would be well within our rights to bring this up in court against the whole Triwizard Tournament Committee!”

“Now see here, you little-” Crouch shouted.

“I wasn’t done, Mr Crouch,” Heather cut off snootily. “First my brother was forced into this farce of a competition lest his magic be stripped from him. Now three other witches, one of whom is underaged, were abducted and held against their will to be part of a task! You can only be thankful that Headmistress Maxime had the prudence to retrieve her student’s hostage on her own, otherwise there would be an international scandal on your hands!”

“I apologise again, Heather,” Dumbledore said before anyone else could hex themselves in the foot again. “I hope you will convey this to Miss Granger and Miss Chang as well. I will personally see to it this will not happen again in future tournaments, if there are any more.”

“Please see to it that you do,” she said, just this side of condescending, “lest more people get hurt because of this imbecilic tournament.”

“How dare you disparage this time-honoured tradition! You’re just an insolent little girl who knows nothing!” a stranger, likely someone on the committee, spat out in offence.

“Yet it was discontinued for two centuries up until now. Yes, certainly a _‘time-honoured tradition’_ celebrated by the wizarding populace the world over,” Heather sneered. She then gave the man no further thought and directed her next sentence to Dumbledore. “I sincerely hope you will uphold your promise, Headmaster. I will certainly hold you to it. Thank you for your time, everyone.”

Without allowing another word edgewise, she turned on her heel and strode off head held high.

~~~

In the end, it was decided that since points could not be awarded to the other champions for retrieving their hostages, they would be judged based on how quickly they reached the holding site and what kind of spells they used to get there.

Hadrian, of course, got the highest number of points for his quick completion as well as being able to rescue all four hostages. He had a few points deducted for deviating from the task given, however, something Heather knew Karkaroff must have pushed for. Following Rian in second place was Viktor, then Cedric and Fleur.

Thankfully, this change in the grading scheme, so to speak, had saved her brother from more harassment from Hufflepuff house. She shuddered to think of what those loyal little badgers would do if they thought Hadrian had ruined Cedric’s chances of victory.

Not that the Hufflepuff champion in question was of that mind, himself. In fact, he had seemed to become even more enamoured with Hadrian after the event, if his besotted glances towards the Gryffindor table were anything to judge by.

~~~

“Heather!”

She made a startled sound as she was glomped from behind. Giggling, she patted the arms wrapped around her. She didn’t need to turn around to see that her brother had been the one to ambush her. He was one of the few who didn’t trigger any of her instinctive defences.

“Hey Rian.”

“Wanna hang out? We can write Sirius – it’s been a while.” Without waiting for her reply, he reluctantly disentangled himself and tugged at her to follow.

“Sure,” she said redundantly. She didn’t mind, far from it. In fact, she revelled in the attention. Hadrian had been extra clingy since the task. While she felt a little guilty for worrying him like that, she couldn’t find fault in the results she’d achieved. So she wanted to hog her baby brother’s attention. Hex her.

“Oh, by the way, can I borrow the fang necklace I gave you for a little bit?” he asked casually.

Bemused, Heather nodded. “Sure, in the Den, alright? I don’t want to take it off here.” She thought about the basilisk fang in question. Sure, it didn’t exactly look like much, shrunken as it was, but there was always the possibility of someone recognising it for what it was. Basilisk parts were a rare commodity. Enough to die for. Enough to _kill_ for.

Once they settled themselves on the settee, Heather lifted it out of her blouse and handed it to Hadrian. Come to think of it, this was the first time she’d removed it since receiving it.

She watched as her brother cast several spells on it. Or, at least he tried to. Amused, she stopped him before he could waste any more magic. “Rian, you know that basilisks are mostly impervious to magic right?”

He groaned. “I’d forgotten.” He inspected it critically. “Is there any way to make this easier?”

Heather tilted her head. “Depends. Do you need to spell the fang specifically, or just the necklace?”

“The necklace,” he grumbled, “Not like you don’t already know what I want to do with it.”

“Only because I know you. And because I’ve used those spells before.” She chuckled at the bewildered look on his face. “The bracelet, Rian. Don’t tell me you didn’t suspect. I _always_ know where you are. Even without the map.”

“And here I thought it was witch’s intuition,” he muttered. “Guess I shouldn’t feel guilty about wanting to put a tracking charm on you, then. Turnabout’s fair play.”

Heather laughed his grumpy tone. “Well, in that case, you’d be best off trying to spell the fang after all. It’s difficult to spell, but once the magic sticks, it can hold onto it almost indefinitely.”

Hadrian listened raptly as she explained the mechanics behind it. Wistfully, she thought of their younger years and how he’d been amazed just by balls of light.

“Runes would be the best. Carved into the fang, they’ll help conduct the magic better.”

“Oh, speaking of that, I realised something during the task. Did you know it’s more difficult to cast underwater?” Hadrian said offhandedly, “I think it’s ‘cos water doesn’t conduct magic as well.”

“Oh, that’s pretty interesting. I’ll have to try that out one day.”

“Mm hmm. Anyway, so runes?”

~~~

They did eventually write that letter to Sirius. Unbeknownst to Hadrian, however, Heather had included a little bit about a certain Hufflepuff Prefect. As a dutiful goddaughter, she was obliged to inform Sirius about things like that.

As far as she knew, Cedric was treating her Hadrian pretty well. They sappy looks they frequently exchanged were a pretty good indicator of that. At least they still had the sense to be somewhat discreet.

Of course, that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to sic her ex-convict, prankster and vicious dog animagus of a godfather on him. Not to mention his Defence Master best friend who so happened to be a werewolf.

She was beyond delighted by the swift reply she got.

_Dear Fawn,_

_Don’t worry, Padfoot and Moony are on it._

_Love, Sirius_

~~~

Heather knocked briskly on the door, entering when she was given permission. Professor Snape eyed her, worry shining subtly in his dark gaze.

“Yes, Miss Potter? Is anything the matter?”

She almost did a double take at the anxiousness displayed by the normally unflappable man. Why was he so concerned?

“Have you had another flashback?” he asked again when she didn’t answer.

Oh. So that was why. He thought she was here for one of their heart-to-hearts.

“Oh, no. Nothing like that. I just found out about something that I thought you’d like to know about.”

He breathed an almost imperceptible sigh of relief. She hid a smile. Worrywart. Putting on a stern frown, he demanded, “Well, spit it out then!”

“Did you know that Mr Crouch goes into your potions storage at night?” she asked curiously. She’d discovered it quite by accident, while playing around with the map. She’d been thinking of wanting to replicate it, with a few extra features.

“Excuse me?” he said incredulously. “Bartemius Crouch, you mean? Head of International Magical Cooperation at the Ministry?”

“Well, unless you know _another_ Bartemius Crouch,” she said, grinning cheekily.

“Brat.” Severus’ traitorous mouth nonetheless twitched slightly. “As it happens, I _do_. His son, Bartemius Crouch Junior. But he died years ago.” His amusement faded as he processed the new information. “What would that man want with my potions ingredients? Going so far as to sneak into Hogwarts.” He muttered to himself, reciting all the ingredients he’d found missing recently. “Lacewing flies, boomslang skin, fluxweed…”

“Polyjuice, sir?” Heather said.

He nodded, having come to the same conclusion. Crouch was brewing it, no doubt about it. What was peculiar, though, was that he felt the need to steal the ingredients. He had ample means to obtain them, and with less effort, too. Something occurred to him.

“How did you come across this information?” It spoke volumes that he had immediately believed her, despite the outlandish accusation.

Her expression grew sheepish. “Err, maybe I should just show you.” She then pulled out a piece of blank parchment.

Narrowing his eyes, he began revising whether it was wise to believe her so readily.

“Ye of little faith,” Heather groused mildly. Spreading the parchment, she muttered a phrase inaudibly. It must have been a password or spell of some sort, because lines of ink started to spread across the paper.

Severus watched with barely-concealed interest as the most detailed map of the Hogwarts he’d ever seen was formed. Stunned, he noted the moving dots, labelled with names.

“Professor!” A hand waved in front of him, snapping him out of his shock.

He recovered quickly, inspecting the map again. “This is occurring in real time?”

“Yep. Amazing, isn’t it? I’ve been trying to reproduce it.”

“You did not create this?” he asked in surprise.

She laughed lightly. “No, but thanks for the compliment.” She ignored the cursory glower he shot her way. Her mood visibly dropped when she added, “This is the Marauder’s Map.”

His own mood darkened considerably. “Is that so,” he hissed contemptuously. So that was how they had pulled off all those ridiculous stunts. Still scowling at the parchment, he almost missed Heather’s next words.

“This is how we – Hadrian and I – found Pettigrew.”

He pondered the fact. “The map can see through animagic?”

She hummed in consideration. “Apparently so. What I saw was a dot near Ron labelled ‘Peter Pettigrew’. I only realised it was referring to Scabbers because I knew about his animagus form.”

“Would it be fooled by Polyjuice, I wonder.” Was someone masquerading as Crouch to get into Hogwarts? It was a stretch, but no more than a high-ranking Ministry official having to steal Polyjuice ingredients.

“I’m not sure.” Heather furrowed her brow in that way that meant she was thinking hard. He didn’t linger for long on why he knew that. “We could test that out, I suppose. Do you have any Polyjuice?”

“Unfortunately, I do not.” It was hardly a standard potion to have on hand. He usually only stocked healing potions. Or Calming Draughts for the frenetic NEWT students, but the sheer incompetence of the dunderheads he taught was neither here nor there.

“Well, it’ll take a month to brew, so I guess we’ll just have to wait. Unless you know somewhere you could buy it from?”

He sneered. “It is a controlled potion, as you well know. Any source that markets it is hardly legal, and even less reliable.”

She sighed. “Well, a witch can hope. Will you be brewing it, or may I?” She looked pleadingly at him, widening her green eyes and pouting slightly. His heart beat sped up.  He clenched his fists. Did she even realise what she was doing?

“I hardly have time for such trivial matters,” he spat out. Turning his gaze quickly back to his marking, he dismissed her.

“Thank you sir! See you tomorrow!” Right, it was Tuesday, blast it all. Even without looking at her, he could picture her bright grin directed right at him.

He stared, unseeing, at the atrocious essays on his desk long after she’d left. Salazar help him, but all he could focus on were sparkling green eyes and riotous dark locks.

~~~

Saturday found Heather, Fred and George in the Den going over a new joke product. They had recently tested it out (on themselves, of course, they would never try works-in-progress on unsuspecting people) and received a rather lacklustre outcome. The avid discussion in the room was broken by the sudden arrival of Hadrian.

George grinned winningly at him. “Hadrian, my man! Glad you’re here. Tell Forge over there that-”

“But-” Hadrian said helplessly.

“-No!” Fred interjected. “Tell Gred that-”

“I-”

Heather then cut in by covering the twins’ mouths. “Enough, you two. It should be _two_ measures of stinksap! Not one,” she looked meaningfully at George, “not three,” she turned to stare at Fred.

“And how are you so sure?” they both protested.

“Well-” Heather began.

“Guys!” Hadrian shouted, finally getting a word in edgewise. The other three immediately turned to him. “Anguis is sick!” Sure enough, he was holding his familiar in his arms, looking extremely worried.

Heather’s gaze sharpened as she inspected the snake. Hadrian wouldn’t be so worried if it was a simple ailment. In fact, Anguis hadn’t fallen sick before – something to do with their familiar bond protecting her.

She cleared some space for her brother to put the taipan down on. While she wasn’t quite familiar with snake physiology, she knew that Anguis was being more lethargic than usual.

“Have you asked-”

“-her what’s wrong?” The twins petted the snake in comfort.

Hadrian shrugged helplessly. “All she said was that she’s feeling really bad.”

Remembering Madam Pomfrey’s lessons, Heather asked, “How long has this been going on? And where is she feeling the worst?”

Hadrian hissed the questions at Anguis, who hissed back weakly. Meanwhile, Heather had started casting a diagnostic spell. Luckily, she knew one from a CoMC book that worked on all living creatures, and not just humans.

“She says she started feeling weird a week ago, but then it started to really hurt just now. Her abdomen hurts the most.”

Hmm. No recent injuries, infections or poisons, according to the scan. “Could it be indigestion?” she mused. “What has she been eating?” It seemed an unlikely possibility, considering that Anguis had been feeling under the weather for a week already. Usually symptoms would present earlier. Still, maybe snakes had it different.

Hadrian hissed at Anguis briefly before replying, “The usual. Rats and birds she hunted within school grounds.” He paused when Anguis hissed once more. “And a colourful beetle that tasted funny.”

Suspicions confirmed, Heather stroked Anguis’ head. “This is going to be uncomfortable. I need to make her regurgitate, since I think she ate something she couldn’t digest properly.” She waited for Rian to relay the news to his familiar, ignoring Fred and George’s scrunched up faces.

When Hadrian nodded, Heather cast the spell. Immediately, Anguis reared her head back and opened her extendable jaws. He stroked her sides soothingly, not appearing to be bothered by the snake vomitus.

Neither were the rest of them, for a matter of fact. Well, when you regularly worked with potions ingredients like rat bile and bat spleen, you either got desensitised or you failed. Once a putrid mass of half-digested…err, ‘food’ was deposited on the floor, Anguis relaxed again.

“How is our serpent-”

“-queen feeling now?”

Anguis butted her head gently against them once Hadrian had passed on the message. “Much better, as you can tell,” he said, smiling happily. “Also, she says you two aren’t her type.”

While Fred and George made mock-offended protests, Heather made a move to banish the mess. Suddenly, the pile of goop began to shift. Alarmed, Heather cast a dome shield around it.

All of them watched in stunned amazement as a human appeared to grow from the puke. Warily, Fred shot an _Evanesco_ at the filthy person. Once clean, they recognised the unconscious form of Rita Skeeter.

Silence ruled while they stared bewilderingly at the reporter, who had been missing for about a week.

“Well,” George stated, “life’s never boring with you guys around.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Hope you like the chapter. I tried hard on the fight scene Heather's confrontation with Dumbledore. Honestly I'm not good with either, but I hope it was enjoyable. Fight scenes are a pain, but luckily they fight with spells and not actual moves like martial arts or anything. That would be torture to write. And the confrontation. I tried to have Heather balance on that line between still being super angry and maintaining a degree of Slytherin poise. Good? Bad? Please let me know for future reference! I'm sure I'll have to write these kinds of scenes again.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr [here](https://lunarlooroo.tumblr.com/)!


	62. Falling Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild Fred/Heather and George/Heather as recalled in a memory in this chapter! They're not getting together though, their feelings are platonic. The next chapter will explain everything.

“Oh my,” Headmaster Dumbledore said when they brought the body into the room. It had been a trial and a half to tromp across the whole school without anyone noticing the corpse. And they had steadfastly refused to let the invisibility cloak come anywhere near it. So subterfuge it was.

“Surely even Miss Skeeter’s articles don’t warrant such treatment?” the Headmaster asked mildly.

“Really, Albus! This is not the time for your jokes!” Professor McGonagall reprimanded.

Oh great. They’d walked into a staff meeting. Luckily, it was only for Heads of House and the Headmaster.

All at once, the four of them launched into explanations for the bizarre circumstance.

“Enough!” Professor Snape snarled. Turning sharply to Heather, he demanded that she explain.

“Err,” she said sheepishly. “Anguis accidentally… _ate_ …Rita Skeeter.” At the disbelieving looks, she quickly continued, “She didn’t know it was Skeeter at the time. She was feeling sick, so I cast the Regurgitate Spell, suspecting it was indigestion. And true enough, she felt better right after. But then the Skeeter emerged from the vomit, somehow.” She paused to take a deep breath. “I suspect she was an animagus. Probably a beetle, because Anguis said she ate one that that tasted odd.”

Cursing lividly, Professor Snape turned to the Headmaster. “Damnit you frustrating old man! I will personally go and set up the anti-animagi wards if you do not!”

Heather was barely able to hold in a laugh at the comment, remembering a similar response when Padfoot had snuck into school. Unfortunately, Hadrian was not so controlled, and he let out a tiny chuckle.

The Potions Master spun rapidly on his heel and fixed her brother with a searing glare. “And you, Potter! Snakes are not on the approved list of pets for students. Especially not a highly venomous one like yours! Think yourself above petty things like rules, do you not? Because of your absolute disrespect for them, a person has been _murdered_!”

Her brother paled rapidly as he realised that fact. She frowned heavily at her Head of House, who glared right back. This wasn’t the time to comfort Hadrian, so she settled for grasping his hand firmly.

“First of all,” she said, “Anguis is Hadrian’s _familiar_. I believe the school rules restricting animal companions apply only to pets. There is a precedent of students bringing snakes to school with them.”

“Harmless ones, Miss Potter,” Professor Sprout chimed in. “Garden snakes and milk snakes.”

“Hadrian is a Parselmouth. He can directly communicate with Anguis, telling her not to attack anyone unless in self-defence. I can’t think of a scenario safer than that.” Seeing that the teachers nodded in agreement (except for Professor Snape, who merely scowled further), Heather continued, “Secondly, it was not _murder_.” She gave a distinctly unamused look to her Head of House. “Anguis was following her natural instinct to hunt and Skeeter happened to be in the wrong form at the wrong place. She shouldn’t have been sneaking around Hogwarts, what with the ban the Headmaster put up against reporters.” This, she directed more to her brother to impress upon him that this was not his fault.

Besides, Hadrian had had Anguis for years now, and the Professors were only now questioning him about her? He hadn’t exactly been hiding her.

“Yes, I quite agree, Heather,” the Headmaster said calmly. “This may explain how Miss Skeeter managed to write all those articles. Unfortunately, the aurors will have to be informed of this development.”

Irritating little bug deserved it, in Heather’s opinion. Yes, that was callous of her. And no, she wouldn’t exactly have wished this fate upon the nosy reporter. But Skeeter hadn’t endeared herself to her with her libellous articles about her brother and his friends.

“And what will happen then? Will we be in trouble? Will Anguis?” Hadrian asked worriedly, tightening his hold on his snake.

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Heather muttered.

The Headmaster smiled briefly before he turned sombre. “Admirable your sentiment may be, Heather, I’m sure we all remember a certain incident with dear Buckbeak.”

Rian made a distressed sound at the implication while Heather tried to calm him. Fred and George jumped in, protesting, “It wasn’t Anguis’ fault!”

“Of course not,” Professor Flitwick said placatingly. “I’m certain there are a few laws about animagi floating somewhere. Especially unregistered ones, as I suspect Miss Skeeter here was.”

That soothed their worries marginally. Until, of course, the Headmaster spoke again.

“Well, I’ll contact the aurors now, shall I?”

~~~

To everyone’s surprise, the matter was settled quickly and efficiently. It seemed that Skeeter had made many enemies in the Ministry with her quick-quotes quill. One of the aurors who came to collect the body even looked sort of satisfied. They hadn’t even accused Hadrian of anything, not that Heather was complaining. If she wasn’t mistaken, Auror Robards had smirked – _smirked_ – when he heard Hadrian’s statement. Rita Skeeter certainly wasn’t going to be mourned by many.

What concerned Heather most about the incident was the way Professor Snape had treated her brother. She’d never actually seen it first-hand. Rian never complained about it, but she sometimes heard things. She hadn’t given it any thought before, knowing that her Head of House really didn’t like Gryffindor. However, she hadn’t known that the man treated her brother worse than even Neville (whom Heather meant no offence, but was truly abysmal at Potions). Even now, he hadn’t stopped glaring at Hadrian as Professor Dumbledore spoke to him.

Heather frowned heavily as she watched them. Hadrian seemed to go out of his way to avoid Professor Snape’s gaze, but this wasn’t a recent development, judging by the ease with which he did so. She held back a flinch as she looked directly into the man’s eyes. It reminded her of her first year, when Professor Snape had still hated her because of her father. Dismayed by the realisation, she stepped defiantly in between them, meeting the glare head on. Dark eyes narrowed, understanding her move as the protective gesture it was. Irritation flashed in his eyes and he turned away, disgusted.

Her heart sank as they were all ushered out of the Headmaster’s office. Professor Snape didn’t look back.

~~~

“Hadrian. Look at me.” His face turned obligingly to hers, curiosity plain to see. “About what happened in the Headmaster’s office just now… Does Professor Snape always treat you so horridly?” The poorly hidden wince told her all she needed to know. “Hadrian! Why didn’t you tell me? I didn’t know it was that bad!”

Her brother mumbled inaudibly. She gave him a pointed look. Speaking louder, he said, “’Cos you like him. He can’t be so bad in that case. Maybe I just annoy him?”

“Impossible,” she stated matter-of-factly. Her brother was immensely lovable. And no, she was _not_ biased. “My opinion of him doesn’t matter in the slightest. Right now, I want to know how he’s like with you.”

“Not too bad,” Hadrian hedged. “It’s the worst in classes. I try my best, but maybe he doesn’t think I’m good enough? Compared to you, maybe. You’re the best in potions, after all.”

“Hadrian,” she said reprovingly, “Flattery-”

“It isn’t flattery!”

“-isn’t going to distract me. Besides, you’re good at potions too. Competent, at the very least. What does Professor Snape do? Shout at you unnecessarily? Take too many points?”

“Something like that,” he muttered.

“ _Hadrian_.”

“He’s really hard on me. And not like for other Gryffindors, too. I usually just keep my head down and try not to draw his attention,” he said, shamefaced.

Anger and disappointment fought for dominance in her. “Rian, this isn’t your fault at all.” His dejected expression remained. “I never told you, but he was like that in my first year too. He behaved like I was the devil or something.”

“Really?” Hadrian stared incredulously. “Why? You two get along great, according to you.”

Sighing, she said, “Remember I told you that story about Mama’s friend Sev?”

“Yeah, but what does that have to do with Professor Snape?”

“Do you know his first name?”

“Err.” He scrunched his brow, thinking. “S something. Septimus? No that’s Ron’s grandfather or something. Severus?” His eyes widened. “Severus. Sev? Professor Snape was the Sev Mama talked about?”

Heather nodded. She’d actually realised it sometime between her fourth and fifth year, after that whole basilisk adventure. When she’d brought Lockhart and Ron to the infirmary, Madam Pomfrey had used Professor Snape’s first name. It had been the first time she’d heard it. Then there had been another incident when one of the teachers, probably Professor McGonagall, had said Sev- then corrected it to Professor Snape. It had hit her soon after that.

“So the Professor hates us and Papa? How come he’s so friendly to you?”

“I may have confronted him in his office,” she said sheepishly. “We reached an understanding after that.” Scowling, she added, “Or at least I thought we did.”

Hadrian’s face fell further. “Maybe it’s just me he doesn’t like, then.”

“Nonsense! You’re fine just the way you are. More than. Maybe Professor Snape and I should have a talk.”

Immediately, her brother shook his head. “No! It’s alright, really. As long as he’s fine with you. I don’t need to spend much time with him anyway.” He stared at her. “ _Promise_ you won’t go shout at Professor Snape about this?”

“Promise.” Shouting was hardly necessary to bring her point across.

~~~

Heather stood outside the oak door, fist raised. How many times had she found herself in this situation now? Here on the threshold of Professor Snape’s office, foreboding wrapped like a cloak around her. Squaring her shoulders, she dismissed her melodramatic thoughts and knocked on the door.

A jolt of surprise shot through her when she saw Professor Snape standing imposingly in the centre of the room instead of seated behind his desk.

“Professor Snape,” she began, only to be cut off.

_“Legilimens!”_ he barked, wand pointed directly at her.

Despite the suddenness of the attack, Heather shored up her defences and firmly pushed back the intrusion. She’d come a long way since they first began these lessons. With considerable effort, she ousted the foreign presence in her mind. “Professor!” she tried again. “Could we talk first? It’s important.”

His forbidding gaze softened minutely and he lowered his wand. “Well, what is it?”

“Why have you been treating Hadrian so harshly?” She winced inwardly at the directness of the query.

Impossibly, his expression darkened. “It is not your place to question what I do, Miss Potter! I shall treat him as I deem fit.”

“What has Hadrian done to anger you?” She was beginning to grow mad as well. “Unless this is about our father again-”

“Not everything is about you Potters, arrogant little wretch! Your brother simply needs to be brought off his high horse and learn that not everyone will pander to the Chosen One!”

“I can’t believe you! Hadrian hasn’t done anything to deserve this!” she hissed, in lieu of shouting. She didn’t want to break her promise to Rian after all. “You’re behaving like, like an immature _child_!”

As soon as she said it, she knew she’d gone too far. Professor Snape’s fury escalated and he practically jabbed his wand in her face. “Enough, _Legilimens!”_

If she’d thought the previous _Legilimens_ was strong, it was nothing compared to this. Fuelled by his rage, the mental attack felt like a battering ram on her defences. She made a valiant effort to hold up her shields, but they eventually crumbled to nothing. This wasn’t the light, probing intrusion she usually experienced when the spell succeeded. No, this invasion pierced sharply, riffling through her thoughts while she was a helpless spectator in her own head.

A recent memory was brought to the forefront of her mind. She recognised it and tried to pull it back. But he was relentless, shooting down her efforts. The strain of it made her head ache desperately. She could do nothing as the memory played out.

~~~

_She was about to laugh when she realised they were serious. “Fred? George?” She looked closely at both of them as they each produced a rose from behind their backs._

_“Will you go with us to the Yule Ball?” they asked sincerely, holding the flowers out to her._

_She blinked, shocked at the turn of events. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Flustered, she just looked between the two wizards._

_She blushed when she realised they were leaning in. As they got closer, her eyes scrunched shut in nervousness. Moments passed (or were they hours?) before a pair of soft lips landed on hers. The lips brushed chastely, once, twice, before leaving and another pair took their place. The same pattern occurred, only with slightly more insistence. Slowly, her eyes opened to see Fred and George’s faces mere inches from hers._

~~~

Severus jerked in shock and rising ire as the memory played oout. Another unnamed feeling rose in him, but he pushed it aside as he was roughly thrown out of the girl’s mind. His students’ amorous adventures were no concern of his. Least of all those of a bloody _Potter’s_.

He glared at the girl, who was panting in exhaustion. Reluctantly, he thought that she had put up an admirable effort to hold off his attack. But that was put aside in favour of the fury he remembered he was supposed to be feeling. She was glowering right back at him, but that was nothing to his own.

“Get out!” he ordered.

Heather clenched her fists. “Yes, _Professor_ ,” she spat out. She was too incensed to try and talk to him. Spinning on her heel, she practically ran out of the office.

The man had no right, no right _at all_ , to invade her thoughts like that. That memory was _private._ She hadn’t felt this way when he saw her memories of her childhood, but that was because he hadn’t actually set out to watch them. _That_ had been an accident. This time, this time he had _intentionally_ dug out deeply personal memories to intrude on.

Still seething, she stormed back to her dorms.

~~~

Fred and George sat down on either side of her as she was sulking – _ahem_ , reading.

“Okay, give it up.”

“What’s got you-”

“-in such a snit?”

Heather casually flipped a page that she hadn’t read. “Nothing. What makes you think I’m in a snit?”

George looked at his brother incredulously before looking back at the sullen witch next to them. “You want a list?”

Fred held up a finger. “One, that little wrinkle hasn’t left your brow in days.”

“Two,” George chimed in as he held up two fingers, “You’ve been reading that Prince’s book nonstop.”

“And three,” they said together, “You haven’t brewed _at all_.” Which was the most telling of all. Heather wasn’t herself if she didn’t brew at least once a day or two.

She sniffed haughtily. “You two are the ones always telling me to stop brewing so much. Now you want me to?”

They made identical sounds of exasperation. They loved her, really, they did. But getting personal information from her was like taking gold from a niffler.

“Heather,” Fred said admonishingly, “what have we-”

“-told you about bottling things up?” George finished with a scolding tap on her cheek.

Her gaze flickered and she bit her lip. “To not do it?”

“And?” they asked leadingly. Hopefully, she would give in before they made her. And she wouldn’t like that.

With an explosive sigh, she leaned into George. He shot a worried look at his brother, who shifted closer to let their best friend burrow in between them. It must be pretty bad if Heather needed to seek comfort like that. Tightening his arms around her, he said with mustered cheer, “Come on now, tell Georgie and Freddie all about your woes!”

She snorted, then sighed again. “Argued with Professor Snape.”

Aha, now they had a name. The git would regret upsetting their Heather so much. They shared a dark conspiring look.

Unfortunately, Heather knew them all too well. “And no pranking him!” she said, squeezing their arms lightly in warning. After a pause, she added, “Even if he deserves it.”

Wow, must be pretty serious if she even considered him _deserving_ of pranks. “What did he _do_?” George asked, even as his twin did so as well.

“It started with me asking him why he treats Rian so cruelly. Then he got all nasty, saying horrid stuff about him.” They winced. Yeah, that was a sure-fire way of getting Heather furious. “So I got defensive, which probably made things worse. Then he used Legilimency and forced out a memory.”

“What?!” “The git!”

She sighed. “Don’t call him that.”

“Don’t defend him!”

“Aren’t you mad?”

“Of course I am. But calling him names isn’t going to solve anything! In fact, me calling him childish was probably what made him burst his top.”

Fred shook Heather lightly. “Don’t you dare-”

“-take the blame for this!”

“What memory did he see anyway?”

Her expression darkened. “A private one. A few days before the Yule Ball, remember?”

“How could we forget?” They grinned briefly, though the thought that the dungeon bat had seen that really irked them. First of all, he shouldn’t have intruded on a witch’s privacy like that. Second, he shouldn’t have messed with Heather, period. “He’ll get what’s coming to him,” they swore.

To their discontent, Heather shook her head firmly. “No, I don’t want you two to get in trouble. You really think Professor Snape would let you off?”

“It would be worth it!”

“Since when have we ever-”

“-been worried about punishment?” In fact, they already had a few ideas on how to pull one over the greasy bastard.

“Please? Just don’t.” She frowned sadly. “He doesn’t have a good history with pranks. My father used to torture him endlessly in school. Even though I’m furious at him, I don’t want to hurt him like that.” She looked into their eyes as she said this, showing the sincerity in her emerald gaze.

Fred groaned, caving in, as did his brother. “Fine. No pranks.”

“No retaliation at all,” she stated firmly.

“You’re no fun!” they whined. “You don’t let us prank Professors, don’t let us miss homework…”

She shot them a sly look. “Well, I guess you won’t want to hear this new idea I have for a joke product. I’m ‘no fun’ after all,” she said loftily.

They made a rapid about-face. “We take that back!”

“You’re the Highness of Highjinks-”

“-the Maharaja of Mischief-”

“-Lady of Laughter!”

“Please bequeath us your knowledge, we implore you, our Queen!”

Heather snickered and began to explain about a modified Daydream Draught. Even as they listened avidly, they plotted ways to get under their nasty Potions Professor’s skin in a way that Heather wouldn’t find out.

~~~

Silence reigned in the classroom as the students worked diligently on their Wiggenweld Potion. Heather added the remaining lionfish spines she had then turned the fire up until the solution turned a nice ochre. Pouring in a phial of flobberworm mucus, she let the now-violet potion simmer. She ignored the putrid black fumes and made four and a half counter-clockwise stirs. Just as the potion turned yellow, she hesitated briefly, shooting a quick glance at the instructions on the board. Instead of following them, which was to shake the potion and then add honeywater, she made ten figure-eight stirs and added two drops of pure rose nectar. Finally, she added the final ingredient, which was salamander blood.

She immediately put the fire out, allowing her finished potion to cool. As she cleared her workspace, she saw that her classmates were at the final few stages of brewing. Fred and George’s looked good; almost the same shade of acid green as the reference phial. Her own was a paler shade, almost mint green. Nevertheless, she confidently ladled all of it into the fifteen phials she had. She labelled one of them with her name to hand in. The others would be sent to the infirmary to be used if they passed muster – which they would, of course. The changes she’d made would increase their efficacy by 20 percent, by her calculations.

Unfortunately, the next part was what she had been dreading the most. Reluctantly, almost dragging her feet, she brought her phial to the teacher’s table to submit for marking. She carefully kept her eyes on the large table as she walked closer, avoiding the Professor’s gaze. She knew what she would see there. Had felt the searing glare all throughout the lesson. With faintly trembling hands she placed her phial on the space provided. Unable to resist, she snuck a peek upwards.

And immediately regretted it.

The dark gaze burned with contempt and revulsion as they bore holes into her. Barely hiding her flinch, she quickly scuttled back to her seat. She never learned. Why did she keep hoping-? _No_ , she was still furious with him, she reminded herself. Clenching her fists, she tilted her chin up defiantly as she took the last few steps to her desk.

She ignored the sympathetic and bemused glances from her housemates, who were the only ones to see the exchange. Professor Snape hadn’t treated her like this since first year. While he hadn’t been exactly amiable (in public, that was) since then, he had at least not been so blatantly hostile.

Well, she didn’t care. Let the man glower and growl all he wanted. If he was so caught up in ghosts of the past that he couldn’t differentiate the father from the children, then more fool him. She wouldn’t bother with him, not until he apologised. (Privately, she despaired, for Severus Snape was not a man who apologised.)

She _didn’t_ care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me on [tumblr](https://lunarlooroo.tumblr.com/)!


	63. Interlude: First Kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted another chapter earlier today, so go to chapter 62 if you haven't already read it! This chapter explains Heather's memory in the previous chapter.

Hands covered her eyes as she was grabbed from behind. Sighing, she put her book down. “Lovely to meet again, Cormac.”

Affronted cries were heard as she was released. “McLaggen!?” twin voices shouted.

“We’re much better looking!”

“And smarter too!”

“How could you have-”

“-compared us like that?”

Succumbing to the laughter bubbling up, she turned to face her best friends. “That’s what you get for leaving me alone on Tuesday. McLaggen was able to get me alone to try and ask for a date to the ball.” She scowled at the thought of that brute. “Actually, ‘ask’ shouldn’t be the word to describe it. ‘Demand’, more like.”

They screwed their faces up in disgust. “That idiot really gives us-”

“-Gryffs a bad name.”

“We hope you-”

“-set him straight.”

“Well obviously. I have better standards than arrogant boneheads.”

“Of course, you’re going-”

“-with us, aren’t you?”

She was about to laugh when she realised they were serious. “Fred? George?” She looked closely at both of them as they each produced a rose from behind their backs.

“Will you go with us to the Yule Ball?” they asked sincerely, holding the flowers out to her.

She blinked, shocked at the turn of events. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Flustered, she just looked between the two wizards.

She blushed when she realised they were leaning in. As they got closer, her eyes scrunched shut in nervousness. Moments passed (or were they hours?) before a pair of soft lips landed on hers. The lips brushed chastely, once, twice, before leaving and another pair took their place. The same pattern occurred, only with slightly more insistence. Slowly, her eyes opened to see Fred and George’s faces mere inches from hers.

Not knowing what else to do, she smiled at them. “That was…” she deliberated over a suitable word, “nice?” Fred and George smirked knowingly at her lame attempt.

“Yeah, ‘nice’. Like kissing-”

“-Mum, it was!”

Heather sighed in relief. “Thank Circe! You too? For a while, you two really had me going there.”

Shrugging, Fred said, “Just wanted to make sure.”

“Yeah,” George added, nodding, “you’re the only one who really _gets_ us, y’know?”

She really did. Not many people saw Fred and George as two distinct beings. Which was an idea that they liked to propagate for fun, but it still meant a lot to them to be recognised for themselves. In the beginning, the only way she could tell them apart was their magic signatures. Though she believed Mrs Weasley knew more than she let on, despite seeming to mistake her twin sons most of the time. She was probably humouring them. After all, what mother couldn’t differentiate her own sons?

“Of course,” she said pompously, “You two are like my brothers. That was cemented right after those kisses. I mean really, they were like the goodnight kisses I gave Hadrian when he was _three_.”

As predicted, they stuck their tongues out at her childishly.

“Do I at least get to know who my first kiss was?” she asked teasingly.

“Nuh uh.”

“We were _both_ your first kiss,” they maintained stubbornly.

Well, to be honest, she could make a pretty good guess, based on how they’d kissed. They did have different personalities, for all that they pretended otherwise. Actually, to be accurate, it was more like they had their own innate personalities, but actually behaved in a combination of both in the public eye. It was pretty interesting to watch.

She rolled her eyes but didn’t press the issue. “By the way, I already have a date to the ball,” she added as an afterthought.

_That_ got their attention. Twin blue gazes pinned on her. “What?”

“I asked a boy. To the dance. He said yes.”

“No way!”

“Who is it?”

“And does he-”

“-know he’s an inferius walking?”

Chuckling, she said, “Like I’d tell you after what you just said. Guess you’ll have to find out at the ball itself, won’t you?”

George leered. “I bet it’s that Prince of yours you’re always mooning about.”

“I think you’re on to something, brother,” Fred chimed in, “Look at the blush on her face!”

She was not! The room was just a little warm. Even though it was winter. She groped about for something to say. Eyes landing on the white roses still held in their hands, she snatched them up. “I’ll be keeping these _Rosa chinensis_. _”_ She pointedly avoided their teasing grins. “The petals will be great for Burn Paste and the leaves can be used in Strengthening Solution. I’ve also been meaning to try adding rose thorns to Doxycide and see if the effect is stronger…” she babbled.

Fred and George laughed quietly at their besotted friend. She didn’t even notice she was stroking one of those books – which she had literally whipped out of nowhere – as she continued musing. Seriously, did she carry them on her all the time?

Well, Prince or not, whoever Heather’s date to the Yule Ball was, he’d have to get through them first. The hunt was on.

Nobody would be messing with their best friend/sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me on [tumblr](https://lunarlooroo.tumblr.com/)!


	64. Out of the Woodwork

Slashing streaks of crimson ink across the atrociously-written essay on the various uses of pufflepod seeds, Severus resisted the banal urge to cast a _Tempus_. Again. It would only tell him the same thing as the past three times. Quarter past eight. Half past. Quarter to nine. _Still_ no sign of the wretched brat. His quill stabbed the parchment viciously as he wrote another scathing comment about this particular Gryffindor’s incompetence.

A soft knock on the door had him almost lurching out of his seat. Carefully unclenching his fists, he took a deep breath.

“Enter.”

Severus stoically kept his gaze on the essay he was supposed to be marking. He waited impatiently as timid steps made their way in. With a mien of disinterest, he looked up.

He couldn’t help the frustrated disappointment that washed over him at the sight of his seventh year Prefect. Nonetheless, he gave the boy an imperious look as he began speaking.

‘Get a hold of yourself, Severus!’ he berated himself. ‘You are behaving like a spurned Hufflepuff!’

With one last instruction to the Prefect for the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend, Severus sent him off.

Vexed beyond belief, he succumbed to the impulse and cast the time spell. Almost ten. Damnation! Of course Heather wasn’t coming today.

Never mind that she had not missed a single Wednesday session since they had started them in her first year. The irresponsible, capricious little _wretch_. At least some forewarning would have been polite.

‘You know why she didn’t come,’ his inner voice whispered viciously.

And he did. He recalled the disastrous circumstances of their last parting. As always, his explosive temper had gotten the better of him and he’d done something regrettable.

Their Legilimency lessons had always been based on the foundation of trust. Trust that he would keep everything confidential. Trust that he would not abuse his position. And he had callously broken that trust in the heat of anger.

Even now, their previous conversation brought his blood to a boil. Hadrian Potter, the _Boy-Who-Lived_. He sneered in disgust at the thought. Just another reckless, idiotic boy who spared no thought for the worry he would cause his loved ones.

(Heather’s despairing expression, etched indelibly in his mind.)

Then he remembered the ferocity with which Heather had defended her brother from the _greasy git_ of the dungeons.

Oh, the resentment _burned_. Another bastard of a Potter had cost him someone dear.

_“Mudblood!” Usually sparkling emerald eyes, tainted with hurt and anger._

He flinched at the wisp of memory. Perhaps it had been ill-done of him to compare her to her mother. He had set himself up for this fallout. History always repeated itself, after all.

But even he had not expected her to take after Lily quite so much.

Straightening from the defeated posture he would never be caught seen in, he firmly locked away the torturous thoughts. His interactions with Heather were a pretty dream, one someone like him wasn’t deserving of. He should be content with what he’d already had. The now-constant ache in his forearm simply emphasised the point.

Just as well. With the Dark Mark darkening by the day and whispers of _His_ rising activity, Severus could afford no distractions and even fewer suspicions of his allegiance.

Deatheaters didn’t associate with green-eyed, beautiful spitfires – especially not if they were related to the Boy-Who-Lived.

~~~

The phials filled with murky liquid sat innocuously on the table. Heather stared at them, lips tight with frustration. She raised a hand, planning to just banish them all. Then set it down again.

Half an hour later saw her still sitting there, with the phials in front of her.

The door to the Den swung open behind her, though she ignored it in favour of scowling straight ahead.

“Heather?”

“Watcha doin’?”

She growled to herself. So what if she and Professor Snape weren’t on speaking terms? Didn’t mean she couldn’t still carry out her investigation.

“Hellloooo?”

“Earth to Harpy!”

It wasn’t like the man had anything at all to do with the Marauder’s Map. Just because she’d gotten the idea for this experiment while with him didn’t mean anything.

Hands landed on her shoulders, startling her out of her swirling thoughts. She jumped lightly before realising it was just FredGeorge.

“Fred! George! Great, you’re here! How do you two feel about a little experiment?”

“I dunno, Heather,” George said with a reluctant look.

Fred glared playfully. “You _did_ ignore us for five minutes just now…”

She quirked her lip. “It involves Polyjuice-”

“We’re in!”

“-and the Marauders Map,” she finished needlessly. At their eager looks, she explained the plan to them.

“So all we need to do-”

“-is to see if the map is fooled by Polyjuice?”

“And we get the rest of the potion-”

“-to do whatever we want with?”

Heather nodded. They’d pretty much summed it up. They didn’t know, of course, that she’d brewed it with a modified recipe and added a rune so that it lasted for only half an hour. She only needed to be morphed for a short while to test it out, after all. She grinned inwardly, imagining their reactions once they realised that after a prank gone wrong.

George quickly plucked a single hair off his head and presented it to her. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

Hiding her smirk, she dropped the hair into a phial. Once the potion turned into a sparkly orange colour, she gulped it down. She closed her eyes at the discomfiting feeling of shifting into another’s body, remembering at the last second to charm her clothes expandable. She opened her eyes to the leering expressions of her two best friends.

Fred wolf-whistled. “Hot damn, George! Who knew you’d look _that_ great in a skirt?”

She looked down at her- ahem, _George’s_ body. “You _do_ have the legs for it,” she admitted, slightly envious. She would never grow that tall. She flexed the long legs, idly noting that they’d look better shaved.

The real George fluttered his lashes. “Don’t I know it.”

Shaking her (his?) head, she (he?) wondered at the kind of situations she (oh sod it!) and the twins got into. “Anyway,” she cleared her throat, “the map?”

Fred fished it out of his robes and spread it out. “I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”

Once the map had drawn itself out, Heather peeked over their shoulders. (Which was a novelty in itself, them being the giants they were.) “Well?” she queried.

“Here, the Den,” George pointed out.

“And…there’s a Fred-dot, George-dot and Heather-dot!”

So the map _wasn’t_ tricked by Polyjuice. “Interesting.” Which bore the question: why was Bartemius Crouch sneaking into the potions storeroom? After pondering for a while, she said, “Try a glamour, Fred?”

Shrugging, he glamoured himself to look like Headmaster Dumbledore. “Lemon sherbet, anyone?” he asked jovially. Snickering, he got out, “Always wanted to say that.” She chuckled at his antics.

“Nope, still a Fred-dot,” George said eventually.

“Hmm, what if we try this…” she trailed off. She waved her hand over the parchment, casting a few revealing spells. Nothing. She tried again by trying to manipulate the magic in the map. Prodding at the web of magic, she tried to guide it by instinctual feel.

Fred and George looked on with rapt interest as their friend worked her magic (literally and figuratively). Though it was far from the first time that they saw her do wandless magic, it wasn’t any less amazing to witness. When she’d first revealed her little skill to them, they had been understandably sceptical. It went against everything they’d been taught! Heather had attempted to teach them how to cast wandlessly, but the most they’d managed was a light levitation. And after hours of effort, too. Heather insisted that it was a mental block. They didn’t really believe that they could do it, so they didn’t. They were still working on it.

Heather hummed in disappointment. “I’ll have to tinker with it further. Maybe I can get the map to show when people are using animagic, glamours or Polyjuice…”

“We’re sure you’ll-”

“-get it eventually,” they said with utter conviction. There was little Heather couldn’t do once she set her mind to it. And maybe this new project would keep her too preoccupied to mope about the nasty git.

Heather felt herself changing back into her natural form. Oops, hopefully Fred and George wouldn’t question why it had only lasted this long. Her gaze flitted over the map and caught sight of something that worried her.

“Why’s Rian in the infirmary? Wasn’t he having his briefing for the third task?” She looked closer at the dot. Yup, she wasn’t mistaken.

“We’re sure it’s-”

“-nothing big.”

She bit her lip. “I should still go check on him. What if he’s badly injured? If it was just a scrape or something, he’d have healed it himself or asked me.” Already, she was halfway out the door.

Fred and George sighed at the witch’s protectiveness. They waved her off, even though she was long gone.

~~~

“ _Stupefy_!” The bedraggled man stiffened in his tracks and fell to the ground, motionless. His gaze darted wildly from side to side, panic shining in his eyes. As if he was the one that’d been hit with a stunner, Hadrian froze, wand held aloft. A groan snapped him out of his funk, bringing his attention to Viktor. Worry filled him as he remembered the nasty club to the head he’d received.

“Viktor! Are you alright?” Hadrian immediately went to his side, helping him up.

“Da. I am vine.” The Bulgarian waved off his help, holding his head in pain as he straightened. “Vhat just happened?”

Hadrian glanced at the incapacitated man. “I don’t know. Mr Crouch just attacked out of nowhere! Are you sure you’re okay? We should go to the infirmary just in case.”

“That…vould be great. And maybe ve can get a Professor,” Viktor said, looking pointedly at the Ministry worker. He held up his wand to levitate the man behind them.

They quickly made their way to the hospital wing. By some stroke of luck, they didn’t encounter anyone. That was the absolute last thing Hadrian needed; another reason to be the centre of discussion.

“Oh my, you again, Mr Potter?” Madam Pomfrey’s expression turned incredulous as she took in the scene. “Mr Krum? And is that Mr _Crouch_?”

“Err, I think Viktor has a little head injury. And could you maybe call a Professor, Madam Pomfrey? Mr Crouch kind of…attacked…us?” Hadrian said sheepishly.

The Mediwitch simply looked at them for a moment before muttering something that sounded like, “Only _you_ , Mr Potter.” Sighing, she bustled Viktor to a bed. “Settle down, Mr Krum. I’ll just go firecall the Headmaster first.”

Hadrian stood awkwardly in the infirmary, shifting his weight from one foot to another. Belatedly, he cast a binding spell on the stunned wizard in case the stunner wore off. He turned back to his friend. “So how are you feeling?”

“Just a little headache. The man is stronger than he looks,” Viktor intoned embarrassedly. Hadrian looked at the old man with appraising eyes. That was an understatement if he’d ever heard one. One did not simply tackle a heavily built Quidditch player to the ground hard enough to injure.

The door to the infirmary opened and he turned around. He wondered who-

“Hadrian!” Arms wrapped around him protectively as a familiar body burrowed into his. “Are you okay? Why are you in the infirmary? Did you get injured? Who was it?” Of course. Who else could it be?

He placed a hand on the babbling mouth. “Slow down there, Heather. Breathe.” He gave her a stern look, continuing only when he saw her take an exaggerated breath. “Now, I’m not injured. It’s Viktor that has a little bump on his head.”

His sister blinked in surprise, just noticing the Durmstrang student on the bed. Viktor nodded to her in greeting. “Oh, hey Viktor. Sorry, didn’t see you there. Where’s Madam Pomfrey? If she’d not around, I could look that over for you if you want.”

Before either of them could respond, said Mediwitch came back into the room with the Headmaster on her heels. “No need for that, Heather. You’ll be putting me out of job soon enough without doing my duties in front of the Headmaster.”

“And what a sweet retirement that would be for you, Madam Pomfrey. No more brats and their whining,” Heather retorted cheekily. “Alas, I fear the healing profession isn’t for me after all.”

The matron shook her head in mock-exasperation as she looked over her patient. “You may want to look in that corner there, Albus. It seems our esteemed Mr Crouch has some explaining to do.”

The Headmaster looked perplexed at the statement. Feeling a little put on the spot, Hadrian recounted the events of the last hour. How Mr Crouch had just stumbled out of the forest and started raving madly. Then he’d begun attacking them. Physically, not with magic, which had taken both he and Viktor by surprise.

“I see. That is troubling to hear,” Headmaster Dumbledore said sombrely. “Perhaps Bartemius would like a chance to explain himself.” The ageing wizard turned to look warily at the incapacitated man and cancelled the stunner placed on him.

The moment he did so, the man’s eyes glazed over as he remained frozen in place. This happened a split second before his mouth twitched and his body started convulsing violently. Hadrian started, stepping back in shock. He watched as his sister rushed forward, diagnostic spells flying out of her wand.

“No, damnit!” she cursed under her breath, firing off more spells, which he guessed were healing ones. Madam Pomfrey joined her in her effort as soon as she realised what was happening. Moments later, Mr Crouch slumped bonelessly in his bindings. The grave looks told him what he needed to know.

“Rapid-acting poison, probably bloodroot or moonseed derivatives,” Heather pronounced grimly. Her suspicion reared its head at the strange series of events surrounding Crouch. First stealing ingredients, now attacking her brother and poisoning himself?

Madam Pomfrey gave a solemn nod. The matron reached into the man’s slack mouth and held it wide open. To his bewilderment, Hadrian saw a hollow in one of the left molars. “A pill was hidden in here and he bit into it when the stunner was released. Lots of people used to do this in the old wars to prevent being captured and tortured for information.”

Albus Dumbledore stared critically at the body on the floor. For once, there was no twinkle in his eyes. The glazed over expression Bartemius had had right before his death was much too familiar to him. After the last war, no one could mistake the tell-tale sheen of Imperius for anything other than what it was.

It _could_ be nothing; simply a political enemy of the Ministry worker. Bartemius had definitely not made any friends with his aggressive handling of matters. But Albus knew that it was more than that. He resisted the urge to stare worriedly at young Hadrian.

Trouble was on the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! So how did you like the chapter? Hope I was able to capture Severus' angst well enough. Good? Bad? Drop a comment if you'd like!
> 
> Also, you can find me on tumblr [here](https://lunarlooroo.tumblr.com/)!


	65. Crouching Fox, Hidden Serpent

As usual, the air in the Divinations classroom was thick with the pungent odour of incense. Hadrian stared listlessly at the shiny baubles hanging from the ceiling, idly admiring the play of light on the coloured glass. Professor Trelawney was going on about something to do with Jupiter’s alignment with Mars. He barely paid her any attention on a good day, but now with that incident with Crouch on his mind, he wasn’t even _pretending_ to listen.

Gaze fixed on the swaying windchimes, he forcefully cleared his mind. The wispy fumes from the joss sticks lulled him into a light doze even as he fought to stay alert. Abruptly, his mind sharpened as foreign images played in his mind’s eye.

_An owl swooped into the window of a dilapidated old manor house. The room was bare but for a plump man, a snake and…some_ thing _seated on an armchair._

_In a strangely placid mood, Hadrian witnessed the conversations in the room before the thing in the chair whipped out a wand and trained it on the man. Detached as he was, he didn’t flinch when the Unforgiveable was unleashed on the cowering man. He did, however, when he felt the excruciating pain hit himself. Somewhere far away, he heard agonised screams._

Then he felt his shoulder being shaken and he opened his eyes (when had he closed them?). The hoarse cries stopped, and he realised that _he_ was the source of them. The Divinations classroom swam back into focus, as did the concerned face of Ron.

“You okay mate?” his friend asked worriedly. “You just collapsed and started shrieking.”

“I’m alright,” Hadrian muttered, picking himself off the floor. His forehead ached something fierce, though he resisted the urge to touch it. Who knew what kind of commotion that would cause with countless pairs of eyes trained on his every move. _Great_. More fodder to feed the Boy-Who-Lived’s exclusive gossip mill.

Professor Trelawney drifted over to their table, scrutinising Hadrian with an unprecedented focus. “What did you see, Mr Potter? I know what it looks like when someone has had a vision.”

He shrugged dismissively. “Just a migraine, Professor,” he lied.

She narrowed her eyes and pressed him for more details. Fortunately, the hour sounded, interrupting her interrogation. He jumped out of his seat – clenching his jaw against the sudden vertigo – and hurried out of the room.

‘Saved by the bell,’ he thought wryly.

As he walked, he ignored the not-so-surreptitious looks Ron shot him. Now that he could, he thought over what he’d seen. That fat man had definitely been that bastard Pettigrew. Hadrian gritted his teeth at the thought that the traitorous coward was still out there, running free. At the same time, dread filled him as he thought of the other thing in the room. And he didn’t mean the snake. The thing could only be Voldemort. The throbbing in his scar was proof of it.

He made an abrupt turn and detoured from his original route, waving Ron off. He couldn’t hide it any longer. This wasn’t the first time his scar had bothered him recently. It had never been quite so serious, true, but perhaps he shouldn’t have simply written those other incidents off.

He could only hope that Heather wouldn’t be too mad once she found out.

~~~

_Hadrian_

_If it pleases you, I would like to invite you for tea this afternoon at three._

_Albus Dumbledore_

_P.S. I’ve always loved the crisp freshness of Ice Mice._

Thanking the second year Ravenclaw that had handed it to him, Hadrian folded the note up and tucked it into his satchel.

Ron nudged him in the side. “So what was that about, Hadrian?”

“Yes, what did the Headmaster want?” Hermione asked curiously.

Hadrian hummed nonchalantly. “He wants to meet me.” He cast a _Tempus_. “In half an hour.”

“What for?” Ron scrunched his brows in confusion. “You didn’t do anything to get in trouble, did you?” He gave an offended look. “Why didn’t you let us in on it?”

Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Of course Hadrian didn’t, Ronald! This must be about his episode in Divination. Or the tournament.”

Hadrian nodded. “Yeah, probably. I should be going. It’ll take a while to get there from here.”

“See you later mate!”

“Err, I’ll be meeting Cedric later, remember?” Hadrian reminded sheepishly.

“Don’t know why you’ve been spending so much time with Pretty Boy Diggory,” Ron muttered petulantly.

Hermione only gave him a too-knowing look and waved him off. Hadrian barely held in his bright-red blush. She was much too perceptive. Or maybe it was just a girl thing.

As he walked off, his thoughts drifted back to his imminent meeting with the Headmaster. He had the nagging feeling that Hermione had been right about the meeting being about the thing in Divs. He bit his lip worriedly. Even Heather had been clueless as to what had happened. He remembered what happened after he had told her.

~~~

_“You should have told me the moment your scar started giving you problems!” Heather chided him disapprovingly._

_He gave her a chastised look. “I know, and I’m sorry! So do you know what happened?”_

_She frowned, lost in thought. “You said your scar has been hurting on and off. And this time it was accompanied by a vision of some sort.”_

_He affirmed it, though she wasn’t really asking. “It was really odd. It was hazy, like a dream, but not. It was…more_ real _than a dream, if you know what I mean.”_

_“So you’re pretty sure that it really happened?”_

_He nodded firmly._

_His sister sighed in frustration. “I…I don’t know what’s going on,” she said reluctantly. “Let’s say that you really_ were _witnessing a scene between Voldemort and Pettigrew. Why would that happen?”_

_“Well,” he said carefully, “did he do anything to my scar that night?” He was hesitant to bring it up, knowing Heather was still haunted by the memory._

_Her eyes darkened in remembrance. “No. He only shot the spell at you.” No need to elaborate on what_ that _spell was. “When it rebounded and hit him, he was destroyed immediately.”_

_“Maybe, maybe it was the failed spell that did something? It didn’t work ‘cos he didn’t cast it properly? So instead it did something else.”_

_She laughed bitterly. “Oh, he had no problem with that spell. He can cast it properly.”_

_He bit his lip, cursing himself. Right, of course she knew that. She’d seen it first-hand, hadn’t she? He reached out and squeezed her hand in comfort. Heather smiled thinly and shook her head, as if to clear her thoughts._

_“I have to go research this. Spell residues don’t usually result in weird mind links. Not unless it was mind magic or something.” An odd look passed over her. “Anyway, don’t you worry too much about it. And if you feel anything else from your scar, let me know.”_

_~~~_

Hadrian tucked the memory away. That had been the moment that it occurred to him that his older sister was _not_ , in fact, omnipotent. Logically, he had known that, of course. But she had always, _always_ held all the answers to their problems before. The immense worry that had hit him after that made him realise that he’d _expected_ Heather to know how to solve the issue.

He smiled self-deprecatingly. He’d been trying to gain more independence through the Triwizard Tournament, but it seemed that he was still extremely reliant on his sister.

He approached the gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster’s office. “Ice Mice,” he whispered, stepping back slightly as the door swung open.

He surprised to note that the Professor wasn’t in the room at all. As usual, various oddments and gadgets were lined the large desk and the nearby shelves. His gaze was drawn towards a large bowl filled with shimmering liquid in the centre of the desk. A potion, perhaps? Heather would know.

He walked in, smiling at Fawkes, who was preening on his stand. The brief moment of distraction cost him. He was caught unawares by the edge of a thick carpet and he tripped, falling forwards. He shut his eyes tightly, holding his hands out to catch himself before he planted his face on the Headmaster’s desk.

A tingling feeling washed over his face and he felt himself fall impossibly further.

~~~

Hadrian felt a gentle hand on his shoulder as he surfaced from the scene. Mind whirling, he turned to see Headmaster Dumbledore’s twinkling gaze. “I’m sorry, sir! I tripped and fell-”

The man held up a hand. “None of that now, my boy. I know you weren’t purposely snooping around. Here, take a seat. Tea?”

Hadrian accepted the cup and drank gratefully. His nerves thanked him for it. What he’d seen was just… Professor Snape was a _Deatheater_? No, he shook his head. The Professor Dumbledore in the scene said he’d turned around and become a spy. But that meant he _had been_ one!

“I imagine you have some questions?” The elderly wizard stared calmly over his own cup.

“Professor Snape?” he blurted out. Well, that could have come out better.

“Ahh, yes. I thought you’d ask that.” The Headmaster sighed. “It is indeed true. Severus made a grave mistake in his youth, but he eventually repented and became a spy for the side of the Light.”

Hadrian opened his mouth, then closed it again. The encouraging glance sent his way made him ask. “How do you know you can trust him?” He didn’t want to doubt the Potions Master, but it was difficult knowing he’d once willingly joined Voldemort. And what with Heather falling out with the guy… He didn’t know exactly what had happened, but he had a feeling that they had argued over him.

The Headmaster looked at him solemnly. “I am afraid that is between him and me. Know this, however, Hadrian. I trust that man with my life.”

And what more could Hadrian say in response to that? In the end, he didn’t, simply nodding.

“Ahh, it seems we got sidetracked from my original reason for asking to speak to you. I heard about a certain event that happened in Divinations a few days ago. Is there anything you’d like to tell me?” The man hadn’t let up on his serious expression, out of place on the usually jovial wizard.

After some consideration, Hadrian described his experience to him, hoping that he could shine some light on the subject.

The Headmaster’s expression was kept decidedly neutral as Hadrian told his story. Finally, he sighed and said, “Voldemort formed a link between you two that night. I have reason to believe that the failed Killing Curse left a portion of his powers in you. That would explain your Parseltongue abilities. I would assume that he has regained some measure of his power recently, which resulted in that vision you had.”

Hadrian shivered in revulsion at the thought of having some of Voldemort’s magic. He didn’t want any part of the monster inside him.

“Well, now that that has been addressed, I believe you have an appointment to keep?”

He stared in bemusement. How did the Headmaster know about his meeting with Cedric?

The man tapped the side of his nose. “You wouldn’t want to be late, would you? Good luck for the third task, my boy.”

“Right, of course. Thank you, sir.” Vaguely discomfited, he scampered out of the office. He had more questions he did answers, as usual after a meeting with the Headmaster. He was really glad that he was soon going to see his…boyfriend. (He blushed even thinking of the Hufflepuff like that.) Cedric’s cheerfulness and sensitivity was just what he needed right now.

~~~

Twin pairs of blue eyes goggled at Heather as she entered the room. To be more exact, however, they were goggling at the various stacks of books floating in behind her.

Fred nudged his brother. “Gred, she’s starting another project again.”

“Yes, I can see that, Forge. And what a whopper of a project it seems to be!” George eyed the intimidating thick tomes.

Addressing her now, they ask, “Is this _all_ for the map?”

She looked at them questioningly. “Map?” Then she remembered that she’d been planning on improving the Marauder’s Map. “Oh, no. I’ll be postponing that for now. Hadrian needs my help.”

“We thought he wanted to-”

“-do the tournament on his own.”

Sighing, she cracked open the first book, _Bonds of Magicke._ “No, not for the dumb task. His scar’s been bothering him. You heard about the Divs incident?”

They nodded. “Yeah, he got a fit or something? Ronnie told us.”

“He got a vision. About Voldemort.” They couldn’t hold back a minute flinch at the mention of the name. It wasn’t actually as bad as the first time she’d said the name. They’d actually taken a few steps back that time.

“What?” “Why?”

She put the book down. Nope, not that one. “Well, that’s what I’m trying to find out.”

They each picked up a book themselves. “Well, three heads are better than one. Even if yours is a big one.”

“Are these from the Restricted Section?”

At her nod, they shared an excited look. “Cool.”

“You’re probably the only sixth year-”

“-with a long-term pass, you know that?”

She grimaced. “Professor Snape was very obliging when I asked last year.” Of course, he’d _said_ that he couldn’t be bothered anymore to write up passes every time she asked. Pushing aside thoughts of the man, she focussed on the book in her hands.

Unbeknownst to her, Fred and George exchanged shrewd looks, having noticed her sudden change in mood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Hadrian finally finds out that Severus was a deatheater and is now a spy. It was odd that no one knew until now, since he's not quite hated as much by the Potters in this fic and hence wasn't accused of being one much earlier. How do you think Heather will react?
> 
> You can find me on tumblr [here](https://lunarlooroo.tumblr.com/)!


	66. Blood of the Enemy

“So, are you ready for the third task later?” Heather asked, seating herself casually at the Gryffindor table during breakfast. She’d really held herself back from fussing over her brother this time, mostly in part by busying herself with other things. First the map, practising for Apparition lessons and then the research for Hadrian’s scar. But now that the task was just hours away, she couldn’t help worrying. Just a teensy bit.

“Here, have another helping. You’ll need your strength.” She spooned another large serving onto Rian’s plate.

Rolling his eyes, Hadrian just ate the extra portion of eggs. And rashers. And grilled tomatoes. “Yep, Cedric and I have prepared well. We even have a navigating spell so we don’t get lost in the maze.”

“If you say so.” Biting her lip, Heather glanced sideways at her brother. She cast a privacy ward around them. “I have something-”

“ _Heather_!” Rian said, exasperated.

“Just humour me, alright?” She held up a pouch to him. He reached out to take it and poured its contents out onto his palm. It was a necklace made of simple chain-linked platinum.

“What is this for?” He knew his sister. This wasn’t just for decoration.

“It’s just a one-person Portkey to the Nest.” She held up a hand, preventing him from interrupting. “You don’t have to use it. You’ll still be completing the Tournament with your own merits. It’s just for emergencies, okay? I’d be more assured if you wore it.” Sending him a pleading look, she whispered, “Please, for me?”

Her brother closed his eyes and groaned. She hid a grin – she had him. Schooling her face into the same wide-eyed expression as he opened his eyes again, she rejoiced inwardly when he put the chain around his neck.

“Happy now?” he groused half-heartedly. She didn’t take his words to heart, seeing as he was admiring the gleaming metal.

“Very,” she stated smugly. “Now, no one but you can remove the chain. And it has a three-pronged activation. Your voice and magical signature are needed, as well as a specific passcode. Basically, only you can use it. Even if someone else somehow uses it, they’ll be sent to the Nest, where the wards will recognise that it’s not either of us and trap them.”

“Yeesh, you’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?” Hadrian clearly remembered all the failsafes implemented into the goblin-made wards in their home.

“Of course!” She sniffed. “Anyway, the password is ‘Domus’. I know, it’s not very original.”

Hadrian nodded. “Latin for ‘home’, appropriate.” He looked into her eyes. “Thanks, Heather. I’ll be alright, I promise.”

“You’d better. Gryffs don’t break their word.” She just had a bad feeling about all this. She hugged him tightly, praying to Circe that all would go well.

~~~

Hadrian watched his sister walk off, fingering his new necklace. She was really very paranoid. Well, it wasn’t much for him to wear it, and if it reassured her, then why not? If he was being honest, it brought no small measure of comfort to him as well.

His friends were looking at him questioningly. Well, Hermione was. Ron was still absorbed in his breakfast. “Tell you later,” he whispered to her. As they (read: Ron) finally finished eating, they stood to get to their first class. However, they were stopped in their tracks by Professor McGonagall.

“Mr Potter, you are excused from classes today in preparation for the final task. If you would please come with me?” She gave pointed looks to Hermione and Ron, who got the message and went on to their first class.

The Professor turned and walked briskly, clearly expecting Hadrian to follow. “All the Champion’s families have been invited as spectators. We will be going to the meeting room to greet them.”

Family? Surely they didn’t mean the Dursleys. Hadrian hid a disgusted grimace at the thought. No, they would never agree to it. Not even if their lives were at stake. Well, it looked like he was about to find out. Professor McGonagall opened the door she had stopped in front of and ushered him in.

Inside, he first caught sight of Cedric and two people who had to be his parents. He recognised Mr Diggory from the Quidditch Cup match. Fleur Delacour and Viktor were there too, with their own families. The floo in the corner of the room suddenly flared with green flames.

“That must be them now. As always, they never could be punctual,” Professor McGonagall said, frowning slightly.

Curious, Hadrian watched the figures stepping out of the fireplace. Before he could process the sight before him, he was almost knocked off his feet by a 170-pound mass barrelling into him.

“Pup! Good to see ya!” his godfather’s exuberant voice greeted him. Laughing, he hugged him back, trying to steady himself.

“Let go of him Padfoot, you’re suffocating him!” Remus pulled Sirius back by the scruff of his collar before shooting his pseudo-godson a commiserating smile. “Hello Hadrian. It’s been a while. How are you and your sister?”

Sirius’ pouting look changed drastically at the mention of his other godchild. “Yeah, where is our little fawn anyway? I thought this was for family.” He looked about the room, as if expecting Heather to jump out from behind someone.

“She has classes, you can see her later during the task. And we’re doing fine. Well, I am. Heather’s been driven up the wall because I’ve been in such ‘treacherous danger’,” Hadrian said, using his fingers to make air quotations.

Slapping Hadrian on the back, Sirius barked out a bout of laughter. “Just like James and Lily used to be! Your mum used to tear into James so bad when he did dangerous stunts.” He smirked wickedly. “Remind me to tell you about that time with the Abraxan.”

Remus groaned. “Oh, Lily ignored James for a _month_ for that! He wouldn’t stop whining about it either. Of course, that didn’t stop him from doing that thing with the hag.”

“Yeah, the only thing that got your father to stop had been the _‘you’re a father now, you’ve got to set an example’_ ,” Sirius said, the last part in falsetto, “card that your mum always played.”

Hadrian listened eagerly, always please to hear more about his parents. How his father got into such nonsense in school was a mystery, but he supposed he couldn’t point fingers.

“By the way, I heard there’s another Hogwarts Champion?” Sirius said casually.

Remus nodded. “Cedric Diggory, right?” he said nonchalantly. “Is that him?” He pointed unerringly to the tall brunet across the room.

“Err, right.” Hadrian smiled hesitantly. What an abrupt change in conversation. “Want me to introduce him?” Why did he feel like he’d just signed his own (or likely, Cedric’s) death warrant? The feeling intensified when his two godfathers agreed entirely too fervently. Despite his misgivings, Hadrian led them over to his (as yet secret) boyfriend.

He caught Cedric’s eye as he approached. Smiling sheepishly, he gestured vaguely to the two men behind him. The older boy paled marginally and his smile looked a bit more nervous. Hadrian was confused, but only because he couldn’t see the warning looks of the two intimidating wizards behind him.

“Good day, Mr and Mrs Diggory. Hi Cedric!” Hadrian greeted them politely, hoping to make a good impression on his boyfriend’s parents. Mr Diggory didn’t have a very good opinion of him, so he hoped to change that.

“Hadrian Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived! Friends with our Ced! Of course you are, our Ced’s one of the best! He even beat you that time in Quidditch!” Amos Diggory boasted loudly.

 “Um, of course. Cedric’s very talented,” Hadrian said awkwardly, catching Cedric’s chagrined look. He didn’t know that Sirius and Remus had narrowed their eyes dangerously at the perceived slight against their pup.

“And these are Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, my godfathers,” Hadrian finished introducing. He smiled at Remus as he said it, meaning it even if it wasn’t official.

“Ah yes, the one and only infamous Lord Black! What a horrid stroke of luck, eh, your false imprisonment? And Mr Lupin, I can’t say I’ve ever heard your name, but always nice to meet new people!” Mr Diggory’s words practically dripped with condescension, causing Hadrian to clench his jaw to stop from making a scene.

“Dad!” Cedric cut in hurriedly, “Didn’t you want to go chat with Mr and Mrs Delacour about some business? Looks like they’re free right now.” The Hufflepuff cast subtle looks at the irritated Sirius Black and winced. Hopefully his father would stop before it escalated into an argument.

“Always so conscientious and thoughtful, our Ced! Very well, I’ll see you later! Your mum’s brought a photographer for when you win the tournament.”

Cedric smiled as his parents walked off, though it looked more like a grimace. “Sorry for that,” he said as soon as they were out of earshot. “My Dad’s just very…zealous. And competitive.”

Straightening, he held out a hand. “Nice to formally meet you, Mr Lupin. And it’s good to see you again Mr Black. Hadrian talks about you two a lot.”

Remus gripped the hand tightly. Of course, he conveniently forgot about his slightly enhanced werewolf strength. Grinning toothily, he said, “I can’t say that it’s mutual. That Hadrian talks about you, I mean. _Of course_ it’s nice to meet you.”

Struggling not to wince under the vice-grip, Cedric smiled shakily.

“So Hadrian spends a lot of time with you then?” Sirius asked, eyes hooded. “How did you become such _good_ friends? You’re a seventh year. He’s _only in_ _fourth year.”_

The words held a warning note in them, though for the life of him, Cedric couldn’t tell why these two men were being so hostile. Perhaps he was just imagining it. From what Hadrian had told him, they were two of the most easy-going men he knew.

“W-we sort of got closer while working on the tasks together,” Hadrian put in nervously. He was getting weird vibes from the whole conversation. Looking encouragingly at Cedric, he went on, “He’s really helped me _a lot_.”

Cedric felt himself melt a little at the beautiful smile Hadrian gave him. Staring at him, he said, “If anyone’s helped, it’s you! I never would have gotten past the first task without you! I think you’re capable enough to actually win this, even though you’re younger.”

Hadrian blushed, ducking his head. “’M nothing special. It’s mostly luck.”

“No, of course not!” Cedric unconsciously leaned closer, wanting to put his point across to Hadrian clearly. “You even know spells _I_ don’t! I’m sure you’ll win this whole thing, look at how well you did in the first and second tasks!” he said passionately.

Sirius grimaced as he witnessed the exchange. The two boys were lost in a world of their own. It was sickeningly sweet. He looked sideways at his fellow Marauder. Remus seemed to be restraining himself from pulling Hadrian away from the Puff. They were much too close for comfort.

It pained him to say it, but this Diggory boy seemed pretty suited to their pup. The sparks sure were flying. And he was a _Hufflepuff_. They were all about loyalty and goodness, weren’t they? Still, as the overprotective godfather, Sirius couldn’t possibly leave him well alone, could he?

He put a hand on Hadrian’s shoulder and cleared his throat. The two boys jumped apart, startled.

“I’m glad you’re such a good _friend_ to our Hadrian,” Sirius choked out. “We’re _very_ protective of him and his sister, you see. We would happily tear apart anyone who hurt him.” He bared his teeth in a parody of a smile. “You understand, don’t you?”

The boy nodded frantically. “O-of course, Mr Black.”

“Excellent.” As one, he and Remus both clapped Diggory in the back warningly.

Cedric Diggory squeaked, intimidated.

~~~

Heather burst into delighted laughter before Sirius could finish his story. “And he just _squeaked_? Cedric Diggory?” She imagined the scene in her head and promptly launched into another bout of giggling. “I…wish…I’d…seen… _that_!”

“I see now what you meant by teeth rotting. My gums ached just watching them.” Sirius scowled heavily.

“Now now, Cedric seems like a pretty decent fellow,” Remus said placatingly.

Sirius gave him a look. “So you’re _okay_ with him and Hadrian?”

The other man’s expression changed rapidly and he growled menacingly. “No!”

“He’ll have to prove himself,” Heather said decisively. Not that _anyone_ was good enough for her Rian.

Fred and George, who up until then hadn’t yet recovered from their laughter, suddenly sat up straighter. “Hey, we think it’s starting.”

Heather’s head swivelled towards the podium, where the announcer was standing. She bit her lip, worry gnawing at her.

_‘Stop thinking about it, Heather! He’s got the Portkey with him. Everything will be fine.’_ If only she could believe herself.

Hadrian was the first to enter the maze, having the most points so far. She felt the waves of ‘low danger’ signals coming from the spell she had on his ruby bracelet to moment he was out of sight. It was to be expected. Him facing danger was an inherent part of the task. Unfortunately, she couldn’t just shut out the feeling without cancelling the spell. And she refused to. What if something happened to him? She would just have to bear with the nerve-wracking feelings.

“We can’t even-”

“-see anything!”

“These omnioculars-”

“-are useless!”

“They should have made some surveillance system for this! What if one of them gets into trouble and can’t even shoot up sparks?” Heather muttered anxiously. Thankfully, nothing of note had occurred yet. She supposed in this case that no news could be construed as good news.

Suddenly, a spike of danger came from Rian. Her heart started beating in staccato. Seconds later, an alarm blared as a splash of colour erupted from the maze. Someone had been eliminated! Excited muttering was heard across the crowd of spectators.

The danger to Hadrian had gone back down, but that did little to reassure her. She almost hoped the person eliminated was her brother.

It was a while later that _both_ Viktor and Delacour were retrieved from the maze. That left Cedric and Hadrian.

Another hour passed without any news.

“What do you think could be happening?” she asked worriedly. For the millionth time.

“We reckon your brother’s-”

“-kicking some manticore arse in there.”

“Or having a tête-à-tête with-”

“-his darling Cedric.”

That startled a laugh out of her, though it sounded more anxious than anything. Abruptly, the danger spell flared brightly, shooting through her with almost painful intensity.

She screamed.

~~~

“Let’s take the Cup together.” Hadrian looked meaningfully at Cedric. “It’s still a Hogwarts win.”

The other boy considered it carefully before nodding. “Right, for Hogwarts.”

Reaching out, they each grabbed one of the Cup’s handles.

A sickening twist in his gut later, Hadrian stumbled into steadying arms. Disoriented, he looked around. “Wha-? Where are we? Some sort of graveyard?”

“Seems like. D’you think this is part of the task?” Cedric made sure he was secure before letting go. “Maybe we should be on our guards just in case.”

“Right, let’s-” Burning pain seared through his head. Clutching his forehead, a bad feeling rose up in him. “Cedric-” he tried to warn.

A shrouded figure seemingly appeared out of the shadows. It was carrying what looked like a bundle of clothes. Hadrian had a _really_ bad feeling about this. They needed to get out of here. Right now.

His Portkey! But it was only for one person… Cedric could probably apparate. Just as he was about to relay the plan to the other champion, a wispy voice spoke.

“Kill the spare.”

Panic hit him, even before the words truly registered. All he saw was the wand. The wand trained on _Cedric_. Without thinking, he ripped the necklace off his neck and pushed it into the other boy’s hands.

“DOMUS!”

~~~

The panicked scream startled Severus from his close scrutiny of the maze. Turning to find out what the commotion was about, his heart froze at the sight before him.

Heather was dangerously pale, slumped tiredly against one of the Weasley twins. She was also trembling violently, looking for all the world about to collapse into a dead faint.

His legs were moving him towards her before even realising it.

“Get out of the way, before you all get a month’s detention!” He shoved past all the gawking students to reach her.

“What happened?” he growled out at Weasley. He quickly inspected her for any injuries or spells, both relieved and worried to find no discernible cause for concern. Besides the fact the she looked like death warmed over, that was.

“H-heather just screamed. Out of nowhere! Then she-”

The young witch jerked sharply. Swatting away the hands that held onto her, she made to stand up. “Let go. The Portkey’s been activated. It’s not Hadrian. I need to go!”

Severus took a few moments to decipher that mess of words. “Go where, Miss Potter?”

“Home!” she shouted. She looked desperate now, fighting off Weasley’s arms.

“Miss Potter…” She ignored him. “HEATHER!” he said sharply. She turned abruptly to him, wide-eyed. “What happened? Tell me.”

“Hadrian’s in danger! He has an emergency Portkey for our home. It’s been activated, but the wards sense a stranger! I need to get there _now_!”

“How-”

“Portkey,” she ground out, clearly impatient.

Thinking quickly, he grabbed onto her shoulder. “You need to go with a staff member.”

“Now wait just a-” Black snarled.

“Sirius!” Lupin restrained the mutt, holding him back.

Green eyes looked uncertainly at him. “It’s a one-person Portkey.” Of course, Heather didn’t trust him anymore. Why would she? After what he had done… Gritting his teeth, he turned to call for Minerva.

“But I can make it two-person in a sec,” she finished, a new determination shining through.

As he was digesting that statement, Heather grasped for the necklace she was wearing, muttering lowly. A dull glow surrounded one of the pendants on it.

Quick as a snitch, she grabbed his arm and whispered, “Domus.” The dizzying feel of Portkey activation greeted him.

Once he felt himself land, ropes bound him and his wand was ripped from his hands. “What is the meaning of this!”

“Sorry, Professor. No time to key you into the wards just yet.” He looked up to see Heather standing in another room, separated by a clear glass wall. “I’ll get you out as soon as I see to the intruder.”

That blasted-! He cursed as she darted out of sight, into unknown danger. The Gryffindor genes had bred true after all. He tried to wandlessly banish the ropes, but found to his shock that he couldn’t. There was a magic-cancelling ward on the room!

If he wasn’t the one trapped in it, he would admire the thoroughness of the wards here. As it was, he _was_ trapped, so he swore colourfully.

There was nothing for it. He could only wait for the wretched chit to return. If she did. The other intruder could very well be someone highly dangerous. She shouldn’t have gone alone!

Just as he thought that, she came back into view. Behind her, however, was a ragged-looking Cedric Diggory.

“What was the mark on the last Potions essay I gave you?” he questioned harshly.

The boy cringed slightly. “A Troll.” Heather raised an eyebrow, to which the boy shrugged sheepishly.

Indeed, that had been the worst piece of work he had received from the boy. Rather unusual for the boy. A doppelganger would have guessed an E, at least.

“Well, are you going to release me anytime soon?” he asked mockingly.

It was Heather’s turn to look sheepish. She quickly let him out of the warded room and banished the bindings.

“Now, will you explain what happened, Diggory?” He glared daggers at the boy, awaiting a satisfactory explanation. No reason he gave would justify him being left bound and magicless, however.

Diggory sobered quickly. “Hadrian’s still in danger!” He started pacing frantically. “We were portkeyed to some graveyard or something. Hadrian’s head started aching. Then this person appeared. Hadrian shoved something in my hands and shouted something. Then I found myself stuck here.”

“Domus,” Heather said quietly. “He gave you the emergency Portkey.” Shakily, she asked, “Do you know where he is? Can you take us there?” Her eyes widened as if something had occurred to her. “His head hurt? It was Voldemort!”

Severus clenched his jaw at the pain that shot up his arm at the mention of that name.

“We need to get there now!”

“You have a tracking charm on him, do you not?” he pointed out.

She turned to him, on the verge of tears. “It’s out of range! He’s too far away! I can’t sense him,” she said, anguished.

“What do we do, then?” Diggory asked uselessly.

“We return to Hogwarts.” He looked at the two students imperiously. Heather nodded dully, having lost her fighting spirit. He sneered at her. “Giving up already? I thought you cared more than that. I suppose I could be wrong.”

This managed to bring some spark back into her eyes. Even if it was an angry spark, it was better than seeing the desolation in them. She straightened immediately. “The floo’s this way,” she stated curtly.

~~~

They ended up flooing to Professor Snape’s private quarters as all the others in school had locked access. He was quick to shoo them out though, giving Heather little chance to observe her surroundings.

Not that she had a mind to, anyway. Not under these circumstances.

They hurried back down to the transformed Quidditch pitch where they met a worried Headmaster Dumbledore.

“Miss Potter! And Mr Diggory?” He turned to the Potions Master in confusion. “Severus, could you please explain? I understand from Messrs Weasley that someone intruded in the Potters’ home using an emergency Portkey?”

Heather waited impatiently as the Professor recounted the events that had happened. Every second they stood around was one more that her Hadrian was in peril!

“A graveyard, you say?” the Headmaster murmured. He looked at Cedric. “Did you recognise the place or any landmarks that could help us identify where it is?”

Cedric thought hard, but eventually shook his head despondently. “I only remember that it was very dark. I didn’t recognise it at all.”

“It’s not anywhere near, anyway,” Heather added. “My tracking spell has a range of 200 miles.”

“Not to worry, I shall try a few spells of my own. This old man’s still got some tricks up his sleeve!” Headmaster Dumblodore joked.

As the old wizard started casting, Heather began to pace restlessly. There wasn’t anything she could do – she was utterly helpless to help her brother. Her brother who was in mortal danger. A sudden motion to her side drew her attention. Professor Snape had jolted rather violently and was now stood stiffly. He looked tenser than she’d ever seen him before.

“Albus,” he rumbled lowly, as if pained. He shot a quick glance to his arm then back up again. The Headmaster gazed at him with widened eyes as he nodded minutely.

Intensely curious and desperate to find any distraction, she scrutinised the exchange between them. The Headmaster seemed to visibly age after they came to a silent conclusion. He continued casting spells in earnest, with an urgency that hadn’t been present before. Whatever had occurred, it couldn’t be good.

A large burst of magic near the edge of the maze turned all their heads. There lay Hadrian, battered and clutching the Triwizard Cup like a lifeline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, obviously I couldn't kill off Cedric. Also, I don't think anyone but Voldemort will be dying in this fic. I'm much too soft for that kind of thing. And I suck at angst. Hopefully this was an okay way for him to survive.
> 
> Feel free to comment here or find me on tumblr at [Lunarlooroo](https://lunarlooroo.tumblr.com/)!


	67. Mystery Solved

Heart in her throat, Heather ran towards her brother. Spells flew from her wand. A diagnostic showed Cruciatus damage, a broken ankle, a large cut on his arm and severe magical exhaustion. She immediately cast healing charms to fix his wounds, though the nerve damage from the _Crucio_ could only be healed with time. Shakily, she slumped to the ground next to him.

“Hadrian, oh thank Circe!” She pulled him into her arms, mindful not to jostle him too much. “You’re alright!”

He smiled weakly in return. “Yeah, sorry for worrying you.” Then, he frowned, clutching her arms. “Cedric, he’s okay, right? The portkey worked?”

“Hadrian!” Speak of the devil. The older Hufflepuff crouched to their level and grasped Hadrian’s shoulder. Before he could speak, however, they were descended upon by their friends and family. Sirius, Remus, the twins, Ron and Hermione crowded around them, all speaking at once.

Irritated, she flicked her wand and thought, ‘ _Silencio!’_. Blessed silence. She glared at all of them. “Can’t you see how exhausted Hadrian is? You’re overwhelming him!” Chagrined looks greeted her. “Now, I’m going to release the spell, but let Hadrian say what he needs to. Are we clear?” They nodded rapidly. She dropped the silencing charm.

“Thanks Heather,” her brother said gratefully. He truly looked awful, she’d make sure he got rest soon.

“No problem, now can you tell us what happened after Cedric left?” In her peripheral view, she saw the older boy wince slightly, looking guilty. Good. He should be. He was the older one, _he_ should have protected Rian, not the other way around!

Her brother’s green eyes darkened ominously. “Voldemort. H-he’s back.” He bit his lip, as if unwilling to say any more.

“Preposterous!” a reedy voice shouted. Someone pushed through the crowd, ranting, “What sort of nonsense are you spewing now, you brat?” Heather swivelled around to glower at the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge.

“Are you accusing my brother of being a liar?” she asked dangerously. After the day she’d had, her temper was at its tipping point. She didn’t need this incompetent excuse of a leader to insult Rian.

The man visibly startled at the venom in her voice. “O-of course not. But perhaps the task was too tiring for him. He must have been hallucinating. Understandable, he’s only a fourteen-year-old boy, after all.”

Her glare increased in intensity at the words. Anyone with a brain decided to slowly back away from her. Which meant only Fudge was left after everyone had retreated. Her magic lashed out wildly, seeking an outlet for her rage.

“I would consider my words carefully if I were you, Cornelius Fudge. Hadrian just returned bearing evidence of damage from the Cruciatus. This occurred during the Triwizard Tournament, a _Ministry-sanctioned event_. If it wasn’t Voldemort, as you claim, I can only infer that the injury was dealt by someone of _yours_. Surely the Ministry did not include Unforgiveables as part of the tournament?”

As she spoke, her magic spilled out more and more. By the time she had said her piece, Fudge was sweating bullets. He certainly felt the suffocating waves of magic prssing down on him, though he probably didn’t recognise it for what it was.

“N-no, you mistake me Miss-” At her glare, he corrected himself. “-Lady Potter. I was me-merely pointing out that the story doesn’t seem very believable. You-Know-Who was killed by your brother years ago!”

“Hadrian would never lie about this!” she reiterated. “If he says that Voldemort,” she relished in the flinch Fudge made, “has returned, then he has!”

“Yeah, I saw him. I _duelled_ him!” Hadrian argued vehemently.

Nervously, the Minister held his hands out. “I simply cannot take that as truth without proof, you understand. You cannot expect me to believe you duelled You-Know-Who and made it back alive!”

Opening her mouth to argue further, the appearance of Professor Snape, Professor Moody and Headmaster Dumbledore cut her off. Her Head of House walked right up to Fudge, looming over him. He shoved his arm right in his face, rolling up his sleeve. “ _Here_ is your proof!” he snarled.

Fudge paled dramatically and staggered back a few steps. Heather didn’t pay attention. Not when her gaze was fixed on the black tattoo on the forearm of her Professor. _The Dark Mark._ Horror filled her as she stared at it. The disgusting brand of loyalty all Deatheaters had.

Professor Snape had been a Deatheater all along? She’d confided in him, spent time with him, _respected_ him. No words could express the betrayal she felt.

Dazed, she allowed Professor Moody to lead her and Hadrian away towards the castle. “Come on, you two! Let them deal with Fudge. The pigheaded man won’t listen to reason.”

“Where are we going?” Hadrian asked tiredly after several minutes. He was all but leaning on her as they walked. His limbs trembled from the aftershocks of the Cruciatus and Heather regretted not bringing him to the medical wing immediately. Hadrian shouldn’t be traipsing around the castle in his state.

“Somewhere where we can talk unheard. You never know who could be eavesdropping. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” His fake eye rotated all round, as if looking for spies around the corner. “I’ll need you to tell me what happened, Potter. Miss Potter, you can leave. I will send your brother to the infirmary later.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s okay. I’ll just come along.”

The Professor’s remaining eye narrowed for a second before he reached out to open a door she hadn’t noticed earlier. “As you wish,” he growled roughly.

Unease niggled at the back of her mind as she and Rian entered the room. She was ready to dismiss it as her being keyed up from today’s events when she felt a rush of magic aimed at her from behind. She tried to twist out of the way, but then realised she was still supporting Hadrian’s weight. Her wand, which had been in her hand, was wrenched from her grip.

‘Stupid!’ she cursed herself for letting her guard down. Pivoting to face the threat, she watched as he caught her wand in mid-air. She smirked inwardly.

As soon as Professor Moody touched her laurel wand, bright sparks crackled out, sending jolts of pain up his arm. Hadrian took advantage of the distraction to stun the man as she wandlessly summoned her faithful wand. It seemed to purr approvingly when she bound him up in layers and layers of binding spells.

Sighing in relief, she turned to her brother, who was trembling in exhaustion. “Hadrian! You shouldn’t have cast anything! You’re almost dead on your feet as it is!”

“’M fine…” he slurred, “Jus’ a lil’ tired.”

“Fine, just sit down before you collapse!” She carefully lowered him onto a couch she had transfigured, and as she expected, he fell asleep immediately.

Looking between her dozing brother and stunned Professor, she grimaced. She couldn’t just leave them unattended to go find someone. Well, she could just… “ _Expecto Patronum.”_ Her snidget materialised from wispy clouds, fluttering near Hadrian first before awaiting her command. “Go find Headmaster Dumbledore and bring him here.”

It took off like, well, a snitch. All she had to do now was wait. If she shot several more stunners at Moody, then he could only blame himself for getting on her last nerve.

~~~

Severus turned away from the imbecilic fool in disgust. How the man had gotten elected as Minister was a testament to the idiocy of the British wizarding population at large. Let Albus deal with the fool.

He sought out the two students and was alarmed to find them missing. They had been there just minutes ago. Alastor was similarly absent. He had likely brought them back to the castle. He could hardly blame them for wanting to leave, after what they had witnessed. The memory of revolted green eyes flashed in his mind.

He clutched painfully at his still-throbbing Mark. The permanent brand of his sins. If his previous actions had not turned Heather away from him forever, then this revelation would surely do so.

Unexpectedly, a rush of warmth and elation filled him. He startled at the misplaced feelings, trying to find the source of them. It wasn’t a Cheering Charm, not if Albus knew what was good for him. The charm felt different than what he was feeling now, anyway. This was more genuine, more deep-seated. Just _more_.

He caught sight of an abnormal glow floating atop his head. A spell-? He gripped his wand, looking up. What he found caused his heart to clench tightly. He could not help staring for a few moments longer, taking undeserved comfort in the feelings it evoked in him.

“Albus,” he said eventually, ignoring the glare Fudge gave him for interrupting, “Miss Potter has sent a patronus for you.” He could only presume that was the reason for the misty snidget flittering around his person like a persistent insect. Frankly, he was surprised that she had yet to learn how to send verbal messages via the charm.

“A patronus? Don’t be ridiculous, Snape! She’s just a little girl!” Fudge said in condescension. This coming from the man who had, just minutes ago, been all but cowering in front of that ‘little girl’. Severus narrowed his eyes, fingering his wand. It took all his restraint to withhold the painful hex that wanted to escape.

Fortunately – or not – Albus noticed his dilemma and defused the situation. “Yes, our Miss Potter is quite the talented student. She learnt the Patronus Charm in fifth year, did you know?”

“Third year,” Severus muttered under his breath. Albus turned to him in query, but he simply shook his head.

The snidget took the opportunity to circle them once before flying towards the castle. When it noticed that they remained where they were, it paused and turned back to them. He wondered how the patronus could look _expectant_.

“I believe that we should follow it,” Albus mused, stroking his beard.

He sighed in exasperation at the redundant comment. Without waiting for the other two wizards (though Fudge hardly counted), he strode off after the floating ball of feathers. It was probably something urgent if Heather could not come find them herself.

He followed it to an unused classroom located off a lesser-used hallway. It used to be an Alchemy classroom when it was still offered as an elective at Hogwarts. Nowadays it served little purpose other than a storage room. Which begged the question: why had Heather’s patronus led them here? He pushed the door open quickly, not keen to waste any time.

Well.

This was far from what he had pictured in his mind.

Why on earth was Alastor trussed up like a turkey on the dusty floor?

He looked at the likely perpetrator, sitting calmly on a plush sofa (likely transfigured) with her brother’s head in her lap. He raised an eyebrow.

“Heather, my dear girl, could you explain this? I’m not sure what Alastor did to warrant such treatment,” Albus said, in his infuriatingly serene tone.

Despite himself, Severus was impressed. It was no simple feat to disarm and incapacitate an auror, even a retired one like Alastor. He was known for his extreme paranoia and situational awareness, after all.

“He tried to attack us. He managed to disarm me, but Hadrian cast a stunner at him. Since he was already drained from before, he all but passed out after that.” She waved her hand nonchalantly at the bound wizard. “Then I cast a few binding spells and sent a patronus.”

Albus frowned in confusion. Severus was of a similar mind. Alastor was a staunch supporter of the Light. There was no reason for him to attack Heather and Potter.

He watched as the Headmaster rennervated the unconscious man. Alastor’s eye shot wide open and his mechanical orb spun wildly. Both landed on Severus and zoomed in on him. His real eye filled with loathing.

“You! I knew it! Traitorous scum!” the imposter spat. “Our Lord will get you for this! No one crosses him and lives to tell the tale!” He strained, clearly struggling against whatever binding spell held him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Heather shoot him an undecipherable look.

Albus cleared his throat, stepping in front of him and cutting off his line of sight. Just as he was about to speak, however, the man’s face rippled tellingly. It took a few minutes, but his appearance morphed and shifted into an impossible one.

“Bartemius Crouch Junior?” Albus murmured incredulously.

“Impossible! He died in Azkaban years ago!” Fudge shouted.

Severus glared at him, shutting him up. He’d almost forgotten the inept man was still there. “Clearly the Ministry is not as effective as it would like to claim. False imprisonment, escapes from the ‘impenetrable’ Azkaban. What next?” he said mockingly.

The Minister sputtered, red-faced. Albus cut him off, turning to question the ‘dead’ Deatheater.

“Where is Alastor Moody?”

Crouch smiled hysterically. “Dead. DEAD! You’ll never find him!”

Severus scoffed. “He is clearly alive, if you are polyjuicing as him.” It was one of the conditions for polyjuice to work. Meanwhile, he was mortified that he had not made the connection sooner. The map that Heather had shown him had said ‘Bartemius Crouch’, but had not specified which one. All this had happened right under his nose and he had missed all the signs!

“Umm, I can probably find him,” Heather offered quietly. “I just need to go get something.”

“That’s quite alright, my dear. We just need to question Mr Crouch here.” Albus smiled tiredly, somehow still managing to get his damned eyes to twinkle.

“Now wait just a minute, Albus!” Fudge cut in loudly. “This Deatheater needs to be Kissed! Right this instant!”

Severus ignored the blithering fool and reached into his robe for his emergency potions kit. Granted, most people probably did not include Veritaserum as an emergency potion. It never hurt to be prepared, however. He handed a phial to Albus.

“Now now, Cornelius. Surely it couldn’t hurt to ask Mr Crouch a few questions first? As well as give him a trial? Have you not learnt the folly of not doing so? May I remind you of Sirius Black?”

The man stomped his foot. _Stomped._ Oh Merlin, he could not believe _this_ was the leader of their country.

“He has _had_ his trial, Albus! He is a Deatheater! Unless you’d like to vouch for him too? Collect another pet?” The man dared to sneer at him. “Oh, pardon me. A _spy,_ you said?” he spat in clear disbelief. Severus glowered at him contemptuously. If that was what he called a subtle dig, then there was little wonder he had been in Hufflepuff.

With that said, the man spun and strutted out of the room. Severus could tell he was trying to be intimidating, but really, it looked much like a toddler throwing a tantrum. Or a Gryffindor.

A startled laugh caught his attention. His gaze was drawn Heather, trying to calm her laughter lest she wake her slumbering brother. “And that, everyone…was our _esteemed_ Minister,” she eventually got out.

“Indeed,” he drawled. Even Albus shook his head in exasperation.

The truth serum was quickly (and forcibly) administered to Crouch, who had been oddly silent during the earlier exchange.

“What is your full name?”

“Bartemius Crouch Junior,” the man stated blankly.

“What was your house in Hogwarts?”

“Ravenclaw.”

Severus nodded. The serum was in effect.

The door slammed open.

He pivoted on his heel, wand at the ready. Fudge swaggered in, a superior look on his face.

“Since you appear disinclined to punish this Deatheater, Albus, I must pick up your slack.” The fool of all fools then made a casual hand gesture, waving in a dementor of all things.

A _dementor_.

“Cornelius! You brought a dementor into the school!” Albus looked aghast and furious. Not much could anger him, but endangering his students was the top of the list.

Fudge lifted his nose pompously. “I have the beast under control, don’t worry!”

The dementor clearly took offence to those words. It seemed to rear up at the insult, looming over the Minister.

“Not me! That man there! Crouch!” Fudge trembled in fear, turning tail and running as soon as he could. The utter _coward_.

His leaving had left a problem though. In the absence of the person with a certain – albeit minuscule – measure of control over the being, they were all in danger. One wrong move and their souls were forfeit.

Time seemed to freeze as it stared at them with its eyeless gaze. Severus itched to shoot his patronus at the thing, but that could drive it right into the path of another unsuspecting soul. At least the people in this room could all cast a patronus. Crouch didn’t count in his mind. At this juncture, he was an acceptable form of collateral damage.

To his unending horror, the door opened behind the dementor, revealing Weasley and Granger, who were holding a large piece of parchment. The thing turned rapidly, descending upon them. Severus raised his wand, shoving the dread away. It was so _close_. The two fourth years stood little chance, rooted to the spot in fear as they were.

Even so, he had to _try_. “ _Expecto_ -”

A tiny speck of light whizzed past him, colliding into the shadowy cloak of the dementor. It crumpled into itself, giving a soundless shriek of pain. Jerking away from the bird, it fled out the doorway, just as the two students at the door jumped out of its path.

Stunned, Severus turned to the source of the patronus, who could be only one person. Heather sat there, with her hand outstretched, desperation etched in her features. A _wandless, wordless_ Patronus Charm. Oh Salazar.

She sat, motionless, before snapping into motion. “The other students!” Quickly but carefully sliding her brother off her lap, she raced out of the room, her tiny patronus leading the way.

The vexatious little wench! She was supposed to be running _away_ from the soul-eating monster. Cursing under his breath, he sprinted after her. Merlin, but the little slip of a witch was fast! Only his much longer stride allowed him to keep her and the dementor in sight.

In a rare stroke of luck, they met no students on the way out of the castle. The dementor had tried to turn into various hallways to venture further into the school, but the little bird never failed to block off its path and push it back to its original route.

To his shame, Severus had a brief moment of hysterics where he imagined Heather running a dementor farm with her patronus as a faithful shepherd.

The dementor was finally chased out of the castle. It flew to the edges of the school grounds, no doubt joining its numerous brethren. He stood a few paces behind Heather, keeping an eye out in case any of those things decided to return. Her patronus had much the same idea, it seemed, as it only fluttered back to her side once the coast was clear.

The snidget nuzzled into her wavy hair, circling her as if to make sure she was unharmed. Severus clenched his hands, an unnamed longing pulling at him. Once he restrained himself adequately, he opened his mouth, ready to speak. To his utter shock, the snidget zipped straight for him, flying around his head in dizzying motions.

Heather looked up, finally spotting him. Her face was devoid of surprise, as though as she had expected him to be there. They locked gazes for an interminable moment. The green – emerald, verdant, _mesmerising_ _–_ bore into his. Then they slid down, down, to his tainted arm.

Nails digging crescents into his palm, he demanded she follow him and swept back into the castle.

He didn’t look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, Hadrian probably forgot to tell Heather one very crucial thing about their favourite Potion's Professor. Don't worry, this will be corrected very soon in the next chapter.
> 
> So how did you find it? Good? Bad? Comments would be really helpful!


	68. Plots and Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for your lovely comments! I may not respond to them all, but they're all really appreciated! Hope you enjoy this chapter!

The Headmaster had insisted that Hadrian go to the infirmary after that fiasco. Heather was all for making sure her brother was alright, of course. Not that she wasn’t already almost positive that he was fine. Her diagnostics were perfectly adequate, thank you very much. Still, one could never be too healed. Especially where Hadrian was concerned.

That, and she could stay by his bedside at the infirmary, but couldn’t do so if he was in Gryffindor Tower. (Well, technically she wasn’t supposed to for either, but Madam Pomfrey had a soft spot for her.)

It was in the dead of the night that Rian finally blinked awake. She had been nodding off in her chair, but snapped to attention when he sat up.

“Hadrian, how are you feeling?” she asked quietly. She passed him a glass of water when he coughed.

“Fine,” he stated, after a few sips. “Still a little tired.”

She tutted, tucking his blanket more snugly around him. “Magical exhaustion does that to a person,” she chided lightly. “You overdid it. With the third task, duelling Voldemort, stunning fake Moody, _duelling Voldemort_.”

“Hey, not like I had a choice!”

“I know that! But you didn’t have to tip the balance with the Moody stunt. Don’t think I didn’t notice how much magic you put into that stunner. Seriously, Rian, if your magic reserves weren’t so huge, you’d be in real danger right now.”

He pouted sullenly (oh, who was Heather kidding, _adorably_ ). “It was instinct, okay? He _disarmed_ you!”

She sighed. “I appreciate the back-up, I really do. But I could have handled it.”

“We handled it faster together.”

Groaning, she gave up that train of argument. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten the portkey thing. That was for _you_ to get to safety! When a psychopathic murderer hell-bent on killing you appears, you _do not_ give your emergency portkey away!”

Hadrian held his hands up defensively. “Cedric was gonna be killed! If I’d been only a second later, Pettigrew would have nailed him with an Avada!”

Her gaze sharpened at that. “Tell me everything!”

So he did. About being tied to a headstone, Pettigrew slashing his arm open, having his blood used in a twisted ritual, Voldemort’s resurrection. At the end of it, she had tears in her eyes. Hadrian had been _this_ close to being dead, murdered.  “You saw our parents?”

“Yeah, our spellfire just fused, or something. Everything got really bright then spirits started appearing. I think they were all the people Voldemort killed before. They told me to grab the cup again, since it was a return portkey.”

“I’m glad you got to see them again.” She smiled tearfully, squeezing his hand comfortingly.

He pulled her into a hug. “They said they were really proud of us.”

Sniffling, she tightened her arms around him. She’d tried. She’d really tried her best in their place, though she was far from being able to replace them as parents. To know that Mama and Papa were satisfied with her efforts meant the world. Hadrian had turned out well, if lacking in self-preservation. Well, that was the Gryffindor in him. Nature had beat out nurture in this case.

Once the moment had passed, Hadrian shot her a curious look. “Tell me what happened with Moody. You called him a fake…?”

“Oh, you should have seen it. I can’t believe you slept through all of that!” She proceeded to launch into a blow-by-blow account of the events. “…then I chased the dementor out of school with my patronus. Got a really scary glare from…Professor…Snape…” she trailed off dispiritedly at the mention of the Slytherin Head. A Deatheater.

“Heather, you okay?”

She shook her head. “Yeah, fine.” She stared listlessly at the bedframe.

“ _This_ tells me differently.” He poked her furrowed brow, attempting to smooth it out. “Come on, spill. Is it Professor Snape again?”

She bit her lip, considering. A nudge form Rian spurred her words on. “He’s a Deatheater!” she blurted. “You saw his Dark Mark right?” The image flashed again in her mind. The mere thought of it made her recoil. How could he? She’d _trusted_ him. Professor Snape was – _had been_ – a mentor, confidant…friend. She thought of everything she’d told him, the feelings and ideas she’d shared with him. Would that all be relayed to Voldemort, _his master_ , now that he was back?

_Oh Morgana_ , he had seen her wandless magic before. Her and Hadrian’s secret weapon, ace in the hole.

“Heather!” Hadrian grabbed her trembling hands, looking into her eyes. “Relax!” He looked around the infirmary. “Could you put up a privacy spell? There’s something I have to tell you.”

She frowned at the odd request. “Sure.” Raising her wand, she cast a few silencing and secrecy spells. This was where all those books and tips from Bill wold come in handy. While a strong wizard could unravel it, they would have some time to at least stop their conversation. She assumed Hadrian had a very important secret to tell her.

“Done,” she finally said. She was rather proud of this little ward combination. No doubt it was pretty clumsily pieced together, but at least it was durable and provided total privacy as long as it held up. She should probably put more practice into these. They had proven very useful so far.

“Okay, I was actually meaning to tell you this as soon as I learnt about it a while ago, but what with the tournament and all that, I kind of…forgot.” He rubbed his head sheepishly. “Please don’t be mad?”

“What is it?” Heather was rather intrigued. What was it that warranted the secrecy?

“ProfessorSnapeisaspyfortheHeadmaster!”

What? Heather played the words over again in her head at half speed. Professor Snape was a _spy for the Headmaster?!_ “What do you-? How-?”

“I may have fallen into the Headmaster’s pensieve once by accident and saw a memory?” He chuckled at her disbelieving look. “No joke. It was a memory of Professor Snape’s court hearing where he was accused of being a Deatheater. Which is true, as we’ve seen. As it happens, he’s actually on our side. Headmaster Dumbledore testified that he was feeding him information about Voldemort.”

That- that…actually made sense. Those digs Fudge made at the Headmaster and Professor Snape. Fake-Moody’s violent reaction to him. She latched onto that explanation, wanting _desperately_ to believe in Professor Snape.

But, well, that didn’t make up for the argument they’d had. Regardless of his questionable past as a Deatheater spy, the way he had treated Hadrian and then her during their fight was reprehensible.

“So you see?” Hadrian nodded understandingly. “I kind of get why he’s such an arse to me now.”

“Language,” she chided automatically. “Wait, what? What do you mean?”

“Well, since he’s a spy, he can’t jolly well openly be _nice_ to the Boy-Who-Lived, now can he? We’ve known that Voldemort isn’t actually dead since my first year. I reckon he was expecting to have to go back to being a spy. Some of the students are the children of Deatheaters right? They would tattle on him being a traitor as soon as he even _looked_ at me less-than-hatefully.” Hadrian nodded again, satisfied with his deduction.

Heather stared open-mouthed at her brother as he explained his idea. That was positively _Slytherin_. “Well, that’s…extremely likely. I think you’re right!” It seemed nurture could trump nature too.

Her little lion then absolutely _preened_. “Of course I am! I’m going to ignore what your shock implies and just take the compliment as it is. You snakes don’t have the exclusive rights to cunning you know?”

She laughed and ruffled Rian’s hair affectionately. “Definitely. You’re plenty cunning. Who do you think you take after?” She ignored his eyeroll. “Anyway, you’d better get some more rest. I know that you’re still quite tired.”

His protest was cut off mid-yawn, which didn’t lend it any credibility. She tucked him in and pecked him lightly on the cheek. “Go to sleep. I’ll be right here.”

“You too…” He was already slurring his words. How cute. She looked at his half-lidded gaze, then at the soft bed. She _was_ awfully tired herself. Giving in, she got in beside him and snuggled close. Because she was paranoid as all hell, she set up a proximity alarm after taking down the rest of the wards.

Her head hurt a bit at all the new information she had. She didn’t want to think about any of it right now, content to burrow closer to her brother after such a trying day.

But as she drifted off, she thought, _‘I really owe him an apology.’_

~~~

Morning seemed to come too soon. The bright light streaming in through the windows wasn’t what woke her (though it certainly helped), but the pinging in her head from the ward, signalling the approach of someone within 5 feet of the bed. She sat up quickly, squinting blurrily.

“Heather, you really stayed the whole night?” the Mediwitch tutted. “Mr Potter is fine, as you well know. I’ve kicked others out at the end of visiting hours for patients in much worse condition.”

Smothering a yawn, she gave Madam Pomfrey a grateful smile. “Thank you. Hadrian just gets into so much trouble! I’m worried that if I let him leave my sight he’ll get into _another_ mess.”

The school matron just sighed in exasperation. “I can’t blame you. You brother has been in here more than any student I’ve seen to. Yes, even your father and his little group. I may as well just reserve that bed for him alone!”

“Really appreciate it, Madam Pomfrey,” Hadrian murmured drowsily, woken by their conversation. “This is the softest.”

Behind the Mediwitch’s back, Heather winked at her brother. “I put a few Cushioning Charms on it,” she whispered. They both snickered, shutting up when Madam Pomfrey turned back around, eyes narrowed.

A few spells were cast at Hadrian. “Well, you’re mostly recovered now. I suggest you continue to take it easy for at least a week or so.” A glint in Heather’s eyes made Hadrian groan miserably. Madam Pomfrey’s mouth twitched at the siblings’ antics. “Go on then. You’re discharged. I don’t want to see you in here again, you hear? You’ll give your sister grey hairs before she’s twenty!”

Hadrian flat out guffawed at that, teasingly inspecting Heather’s hair for any discolouration. She batted his hands away, trying not to pout.

~~~

“Excuse me?” Severus spat, incredulous.

Albus sighed. “Difficult times are upon us, my boy. Now that Tom is back, Hadrian needs to be kept safe.”

Severus gripped the armrests of his chair with force. He noticed that Albus made no mention of _Heather_. “And your solution is to return them both to those cretins?” he gritted out. “Have you forgotten already what those…things did to the brats? Despite appearances to the contrary, I know you are yet senile.”

His employer frowned. “Now, Severus, I know that these circumstances are…less than ideal.” He scoffed at the understatement. “But there is simply no safer option for him. For them both. While the original blood wards would have disintegrated by now, I can use the remnants to build another set, albeit one slightly weaker than before.”

“Nevertheless, H-Miss Potter would never stand for it. Even if this little excursion you are sending me on is successful.” Indeed. No one could make Heather do something she didn’t want to. Least of all if it threatened her brother’s safety. Severus himself would give Longbottom an Outstanding before letting the two siblings return to that hell.

The old coot smiled benignly. “You can leave that up to me. All you need to do is convince Petunia to take them back in.”

Hiding the fury he felt, he stood to leave. He couldn’t believe Albus was actually thinking of forcing the Potters to go back to an abusive household. Though he didn’t know why he was surprised. That was exactly what the elderly wizard had done to him, once upon a time.

“Oh, and Severus? Sirius and Remus are already waiting at the entrance hall.”

Severus swivelled to look back at the old man. “The mutt and wolf!” He had to be mad if he expected them to get along. Albus’ expression remained placid, but the unspoken warning to play nice was received loud and clear. Sneering, he stormed out.

As he stomped through the castle, he thought furiously. The old coot seemed to have forgotten that Severus’ vow bound him to Heather and her brother, _not_ Albus. While he acted the loyal lapdog and carried out his orders, he only did so when it suited his purposes. That was, when it served to protect the Potters. And returning them to the Dursleys certainly did not.

It was just as well that he had been ordered to ‘convince’ the Dursleys to take the siblings back in. He had been itching to pay them a little visit for years, ever since he had found out their horrid treatment. Vernon Dursley, especially, was in for a treat. Severus had learnt much from his previous master. What Albus didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.

And if they adamantly refused to ever see Heather and Potter ever again after his visit, then there was nothing anyone could do to force them. Albus was much too ‘moral’ to do so.

The canines might even be, dare he say it, _helpful_ in this venture. Despite their innumerable shortcomings, their love for the Potters could not be doubted. Suddenly, Severus was very much looking forward to seeing his childhood acquaintance again.

~~~

“So where are these Dursleys living?” Black demanded rudely. “Let’s just get this over and done with so I don’t have to see your ugly mug any longer than I have to!”

“Sirius!” Lupin chided softly.

Severus raised his brow derisively. “Over a decade and your insults still haven’t changed. Oh, perhaps your vacation in Azkaban has stunted your cognitive growth? If there was anything to stunt at all.”

The mutt made to lunge at him, but was stopped by the wolf. Pity. He had a curse he had been meaning to try out.

“Sirius, behave yourself!” Lupin then turned to him. “And do you really have to bait him like that, Severus?”

He hissed. “When have I _ever_ given you leave to use my first name, wolf?”

“Don’t talk to him like that!” the imbecile barked.

“Enough! Sirius Orion Black!” Lupin glared meaningfully. Well of course the wolf was more alpha of the two mutts.

“If you are done wasting my precious time,” he said, ignoring Black’s scoff, “I believe there is something you need to know first.”

Black opened his mouth to speak, obviously something derogatory, but was cut off by Lupin. “What is it? We are here to talk to Petunia about housing Heather and Hadrian again, right?”

“That is what Albus wants, yes.” He paused deliberately. “That is not what we are going to do.”

“I _knew_ it! You’re just Deatheater scum. You’re here to kill the Dursleys aren’t you!”

The mutt’s barking was really grating on his ears. He flicked a silencing spell at the idiot, admiring the indignance on his face as he shouted soundlessly. At least Lupin wasn’t as stupid as his comrade. He merely looked at him curiously, waiting for an explanation.

“As I was saying, we will not be convincing them to take the Potters in. In fact, we will be doing the exact opposite. While I would not be opposed to killing them, I believe I shall leave that decision up to the brats.”

“What do you mean, Se-Snape?”

“Tell me, what do you know about Miss and Mr Potter’s time with the Dursleys?” At their perplexed expressions, he almost smirked. It seemed neither of the siblings had trusted their _beloved_ godfathers with the information. It was _him_ that Heather had confided in, him that had comforted and stood by her.

At any rate, he was anticipating their reactions to what he had to tell them.

~~~

“I’m gonna KILL them!” Black roared fiercely. Lupin clamped his hands around his shoulders, stopping him from storming off in search of the Dursleys. Not like the werewolf was in a much calmer state himself. His eyes had bled amber, showing how close his wolf was to the surface. At any other time, the sight would have unnerved Severus, but right now it was satisfying. He wouldn’t want them to go easy on those filthy muggles, after all.

And all this rage after only hearing about the cupboard and food deprivation. Nothing that Albus didn’t already know. Severus could only imagine the fallout if they knew everything else. Not that Severus had any inclination at all to tell them anything. Heather had told him all that in confidence. He would not break that trust.

_(‘Ahh, but you already have, haven’t you?’_ He roughly shoved the thought away.)

Clearing his throat, he stared pointedly at the two morons until they settled down again. “As mentioned previously, we cannot kill them. While it would be more of a favour to the world, Albus would surely never stand for it. Correct me if I am wrong, but I take it you would like to stay as far away from Azkaban as possible.” Black just bared his teeth angrily, but didn’t move to speak. Likely too furious for words.

“What should we _do_ then? We can’t just let them get away with it! After what they did to poor Heather and Hadrian!” Lupin questioned in frustration. There was an undertone of a growl in his voice.

Severus raised an unimpressed brow at the two men. Could they not think for themselves? “I only said that we could not kill them. I am sure you can concoct an appropriate plan of action that follows those guidelines.” He knew, as a matter of experience, that torment and cruelty were their specialties.

He ignored the way their frowns turned into vicious grins and handed them the apparition coordinates. Dear _Tuney_ was in for the shock of her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, feel free to drop comments about what you liked, didn't like, or anything else! You can also find me on tumblr at [Lunarlooroo](https://lunarlooroo.tumblr.com/)!


	69. Just Des(s)erts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for your continued support! Each and every comment really makes my day, especially when real life's been hella stressful lately. Hope you enjoy this chapter as well! Happy reading!

Petunia set the cutlery down on the placemat, aligning the forks and knives _just so_. There, perfect. Fish and chips with a hearty side of shepherd’s pie for her big strong men. Triple decker chocolate cake cooling in the fridge. A perfectly normal lunch for her perfectly normal family.

“Vernon, darling! Duddikins! Lunch is ready!” Petunia stated in a slightly louder tone than usual. She certainly didn’t shout. No respectable lady did.

“Yes Pet!” her husband bellowed from their room. She didn’t have to wait long before Vernon and Dudley descended the stairs to make their way to the dining room. It was a point of pride for her that her men never found dissatisfaction with her food. They rarely had a meal without second and third helpings. Her Dudley was growing so quickly!

As they sat for the meal, she enquired politely about their day so far. They merely made grunts in reply around their mouthfuls of food, but that was alright. It just meant that they had had perfectly normal days. As it should be in their perfectly normal lives.

Petunia’s thoughts took a dark turn as she remembered just two years ago the blasphemous abnormalities that existed under _her_ roof.  Even when she had taken those urchins into her care out of the goodness of her heart, they had repaid her with ungratefulness. Well good riddance to bad rubbish! She still occasionally had nightmares about her poor husband being stuck, unconscious and pale, to the wall of their living room the last time those fiends had stayed here. It had taken _days_ before he’d been released.  And what a mess her living room had been! It seemed that for everything she tidied up, something else had upended itself.

She shivered, pushing those horrid times out of her mind. Those demons were gone now. Her home was once again the epitome of normal.

“Mummy! I want pudding!” Dudley whined cutely. Petunia laughed. It was so adorable how her 14-year-old son still relied on her so much. She hoped he would always be like that. She never wanted her son to grow out of this stage.

She went to the fridge and brought out the whopping chocolate confection, cutting it into giant slices. None of those miniature things at tea parties for her men.

“Muuuumm! Where’s my cake!”

“Coming dear!” Petunia hurried with the plating and carried the cake to the table.

Suddenly, a loud bang came from the front porch, startling her into almost dropping the cake. She sighed in relief when she steadied herself. She would never have heard the end of it from her Duddikins if his dessert had been ruined.

She heard Vernon growl as he went to investigate the noise. Probably one of those awful Jones-Duncan brats. Always going about the neighbourhood with their tattoos and piercings. What hooligans. What were that disgusting ‘couple’ doing with their children? Just went to show that two men weren’t suited to raise anything.

“GET OUT!” she heard her husband scream as she entered the dining room with the cake. She saw the people standing in her pristine home and promptly shrieked, dropping the tray in her hands.

“Hello _Tuney_.”

She grew dizzy, ignoring her son’s loud protest at the splattered cake. Grabbing the nearest wall to steady herself, she tried to regain her bearings. What was _he_ doing here? That awful Snape child, who was always chasing Lily’s tail like a desperate mutt. He was just as ugly as she remembered, maybe even more so. His nose was still too large and too bent. Skin too sallow. Hair too greasy. And yes, teeth too crooked, from the way he bared them at her threateningly.

She turned away, not able to keep her eyes on him any longer. Her gaze fell on the other dark-haired man beside him. He looked eerily familiar, like someone she had seen on the telly… She paled even further as she made the connection. “Sirius Black, that escaped murderer!” She shrunk back in fear, shooting her son a panicked glance. The monster seemed to light up in wicked glee in the face of her terror.

“W-what are you doing here? G-get out of my house!”

Snape scoffed at her. Then, as if her fear wasn’t already at an all-time high, he took out his wand. She screamed. “NO! None of that freakiness in my home! GET OUT!” She hated it. Hated how these freaks had come into her home and sucked away all that was good and normal. Freaks were always messing with her life and ruining everything she had!

None of her protests worked, of course. These people were unreasonable, insanity of the highest order. The stick twitched slightly in his hand and a light shot out of it. She shouted again when it hit her and her family. But no, not a sound came out. Her hand flew to her throat, grasping at her currently-useless voice box.

In a flurry of movement, she was yanked into a chair by an invisible force ( _unnatural_!). She, Vernon and Dudley were moved to sit in a row when their chairs suddenly begun walking ( _abnormal_!). She tried to jump out of her seat, but she. Couldn’t. Move!

Trapped.

She and her family were trapped by these madmen and she could nothing!

“Ahh, feeling helpless? Like cornered animals?” Snape said idly, caressing his death stick. “How does it feel, to be at the mercy of people stronger, _better?_ ” He leaned in. “Terrifying, isn’t it?” he whispered.

“D-don’t please…” she mouthed uselessly.

“You want me to stop?” he asked cruelly. “Did you ever when Heather and her brother asked you to? No? I didn’t think so.”

She felt like a pinned butterfly in a callous collector’s possession. A wounded animal in a trap. She couldn’t look away, not now, when her instincts screamed ‘danger’. Taking her eyes off the predator spelt a gruesome death.

A lowly muttered word (alarm bells rang in her head), then her head exploded in agony.

~~~

Severus sneered in disgust as the last one, the boy, slumped over. All three were currently trapped within their own subconscious minds, experiencing their worst nightmares. The temporal disparity between the mind and reality would be of advantage to him. For every minute they were submerged, they would feel as if it was a day. It wasn’t a spell, per se. Just a party trick he could do with his legilimentic skills. It also let him riffle through their minds without resistance, not that they put any up. Muggles couldn’t perform occlumency, after all.

He thought he had been prepared for what he would see in their minds. Thought that Heather’s explanations had covered everything. What a fool he was. There was a whole bucket of flobberworms that Heather had never addressed.

These muggles were truly the most despicable things.

Poisoning mere children with aconite had been far from the only murder attempt that had occurred under this roof, though it was the most recent.

Severus doubted that Heather had even known about most of these.

If it had not been for the siblings’ strong innate magic, they would have died long ago. Like the time Petunia had left the stove gas on and left the house, leaving the toddlers locked inside. Or the time the downstairs heating had been turned off in the dead of the coldest winter in Surrey for decades.

This level of abuse was something he could never have fathomed.

Not for the first time, he thanked Circe for blessing those two with such potent gifts.

If he had had any reservations about what he was going to do to these muggles, they would have been obliterated. Physical torture was out, since that would just draw too much attention. That was quite alright, since mental torture could be just as effective.

Black was already working on his own contribution somewhere in the house. He left him to it, knowing he could make the Dursleys’ home into a living nightmare if he was sufficiently motivated. And he was. Last he had heard, the dog planned to enchant various things in the house to act up unexpectedly.

Lupin, on the other hand, chose to occupy his time speaking to the other residents of Privet Drive. It couldn’t be helped that he simply had nothing nice to say about the Dursleys. Indeed, most of what he talked about could be classified as _scandalous_. If there was something Petunia and her whale of a husband prided themselves on, it was their reputation. Well, not for much longer.

Severus himself had a bit of tinkering to do with the Dursleys’ minds. Laughably simple to perform on muggles, for a trained Legilimens such as himself. For Dursley Sr and Jr, he altered their mind to perceive all food to taste like ash. For Petunia, he reduced her ability to think through her words before speaking. The next time she met her ‘friends’ for tea, they would get a shock at the amount of contempt she held for them.

Just as he finished up, Black and Lupin bounded back into the room, smug satisfaction evident in their every step.

“We’re done! Let’s get outta here before old Dumbledore gets suspicious,” Black said excitedly, in a much chirpier mood than when he had arrived.

“How long will you leave them like this?” Lupin asked. A passer-by would take that to be a question asked out of concern. Severus knew that the wold simply wanted to know how much the Dursleys would suffer.

“It will wear off in an hour or so,” Severus stated nonchalantly.

“And even when it does, they won’t get any rest! Those enchantments I did will _freak_ them out.” Black smirked gleefully. “They can’t even move houses to get away from it, since I connected the spells to them and not the furniture. Imagine the fat whale’s reaction when the walls start leaking slime and the forks begin dancing on the kitchentop!” Amazingly enough, the dog managed to give him a conspiring smirk without vomiting.

Just before they apparated away, though, Severus shot one last spell at Vernon Dursley. Just a slight bit of physical torture could be allowed. He had made a promise of sorts to Heather, after all.

“ _Exseco!”_

When they landed in Hogsmeade, the two wizards turned to him, curious about his last spell. He could see Lupin thinking already, muttering the word to himself. His eyes widened as he made the translation from Latin.

“You _castrated_ him?” The werewolf looked at him incredulously, clearly fighting his humour. His friend clearly had no such compunctions, bursting into raucous laughter.

“You know what? You’re alright, Snape.” Severus scoffed at Black’s words. “This doesn’t mean I like you or anything.” That was better.

Without a further word, he turned and walked back to Hogwarts. Now to inform Albus how _resistant_ the Dursleys had been despite his best efforts.

~~~

Heather was pretty sure that no other students found themselves in the Headmaster’s office with such regularity. Then again, there wasn’t anyone quite like her brother. The man had sent a message for them to both meet him in his office, just a day before they were due to leave for the holidays.

She was still waiting for Professor Dumbledore to get to the point of the meeting. _Sure_ , he’d given them further explanations on recent events. _Yes_ , she was glad that they’d found the real Professor Moody trapped in his own trunk, malnourished but still kicking. And _of course_ it was nice to know that it was the fact that Hadrian and Voldemort had brother wands that saved him by the activation of _Priori Incantatem._ But, really, the old wizard was an expert at beating around the bush. She needed to get back to packing her trunk.

“…and so, my dears, I’m afraid it would be best if you two returned to your relatives’ home to stay.”

Heather perked to attention, cursing herself for getting distracted. What the sodding heck?! Seeing the protest in their expressions, the man held up his hands placatingly. Hah! As if that had any effect.

“Now, I know that you have had your differences, but this is truly the only way to keep you two safe enough from Voldemort.” The man had the gall to twinkle his irritating gaze at her. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want to risk your brother’s life, would you, Heather?”

How _dare_ he? Heather clenched her fists until her knuckles whitened. Trying to play at her worries for Rian? That damnable old coot knew _nothing_. _No one_ was as concerned about her brother safety as she was. As if she could be manipulated so easily. She wasn’t a Slytherin for nothing, you know.

“NO!” Hadrian exclaimed, shooting her a worried look.

“We will not be going back there. Under _any_ circumstances!” she hissed out, trying to control herself. She gave the old man a hard look, daring him to contradict her. Which he just _had_ to do.

“I understand that you may have a few hard feelings for them.” She scoffed outwardly, letting him see her scorn. No, he didn’t understand a thing at all. “Nonetheless, Hadrian is in great danger with Voldemort putting a target on his head. Your Aunt Petunia can provide an impenetrable blood protection once I make the necessary arrangements.”

Blood wards?! He wanted to talk about the Merlin-be-damned _blood wards?_ Oh, who did he think he was fooling?

Suddenly, Rian stood up, slamming his fist on the desk. The presumptuous fool had managed to anger her brother. Truly, well done. She was of a mind to just let him be, too. Why _should_ she try to calm Hadrian down when the Headmaster jolly well deserved whatever dressing-down Hadrian was going to give him? In fact, she was just going to sit back and enjoy the show. An angry Hadrian was really something to behold.

“I. SAID. NO!” the knick-knacks on the desk started rattling ominously.

“Now, my boy-”

“And I am NOT your boy!”

“Hadrian-”

“NO! You listen to _me_ , old man!” Heather almost choked on air at that.

“Heather and I wouldn’t return to the Dursleys even if Voldemort were to drop dead the moment we did! If we ever see them again, it would be too soon! Azkaban will have a place for me if I ever get my hands on Vernon, the disgusting pig! Well, no, I don’t want to insult pigs that way.” Wow, Hadrian had certainly been holding this all in. The glass display in the corner shattered into itty bitty pieces.

“I’m afraid I will force the issue if I have to, my- Mr Potter,” Dumbledore said sternly, disappointment clear in his features.

The shelf behind the man exploded, causing a tiny flinch. Heather hid a smirk behind a cough.

“Unfortunately for you, Dumbledore, you don’t have the authority to do that! Do you claim to be the Minister of Magic? Well, Fudge would take offence to that. And even he can’t force an emancipated Lady of the Peerage and her Heir to stay with abusive guardians. At most, what you could do is expel us. I don’t know what reason you would give, though I’m sure you could think up something in that crazy head of yours. Even then, we’d just transfer to Durmstrang or Ilvermorny or even Mahoutokoro. I’ve heard Japan’s cherry blossoms are brilliant.”

Heather nodded in agreement with her brother. Truly, she would even homeschool both herself and Rian if it came to that. They’d be able to figure it out. They were already ahead, anyway.

“Now, there is now need to go to such drastic measures.” Dumbledore sounded just a tad nervous now.

Hadrian, in a sudden about-face, smiled sweetly. “I’m so glad we agree. So no Dursleys?” He spat out ‘Dursleys’ like it was absolute rubbish. And he even managed it whilst still beaming adorably. She added points to him in her head. She wondered how she could treat him after this. Maybe she could build a new duelling room at home. She’d have to ask Mr Weasley how he’d added all those extra rooms at the Burrow.

“Perhaps if we all spoke calmly about this-”

“Perhaps if we could all make intelligent suggestions…” Hadrian said mockingly. “Hmm, too bad. We can’t all get what we want.”

Her brother was really being incredibly rude. She loved it. Heather didn’t normally encourage such bad manners, but she was petty enough to enjoy it when he did it to Dumbledore. Then again, this was the man that wanted to force them back into a highly abusive household.

A knock from the door got all of their attention. Dumbledore seemed to sigh in relief. It was something small, but Heather was pretty sure she wasn’t mistaken. She wondered who was standing outside. Who would Dumbledore want privy to this conversation?

The man let the newcomer in with a wave of his hand. Perhaps he was trying to intimidate them with the careless display of wandless, but really, it was laughable. Especially since Hadrian’s anger had done much worse just now. Of course, he didn’t know that it was purposeful and not just accidental magic.

A prickle of awareness had her sitting straight. Oh _._ _He_ was here. She restrained herself from turning around. This was the first time she was meeting him since that revelation Hadrian had sprung on her. She still had to apologise to him… She held no hopes that he would forgive her, but he needed to know how sorry she was, at least.

“Ahh, Severus, just in time.” Dumbledore beamed at him in relief, gesturing for him to take a seat in a newly-conjured chair. “Now, Mr and Miss Potter, Professor Snape here has just returned from visiting your relatives.” Wait, what? Heather fought hard to keep her shock from her face. “They are all ready to take you in again, so if you would…”

“The Dursleys have refused to see these two again. In fact, they were quite adamant that they be left alone. They want no further contact with the Wizarding World at all.” After a pause, Professor Snape added quite insincerely, “My apologies, Albus.”

Dumbledore’s face fell again. He looked truly devastated, sick with worry about what to do. And, well, Heather was never one to kick a dog when it was down. She decided to throw him a bone. (And she was clearly spending too much time corresponding with Padfoot, with all these canine puns.)

“You wouldn’t be able to erect new blood wards with Petunia anyway. Nor would you need to.” She paused, racking up the suspense. She felt like FredGeorge before the unveiling of a great prank. Well, she was their best friend of 6 years. They were bound to have rubbed off on her. Not to mention the Marauders’ influence. “Because the blood wards are tied to me.”

Dumbledore’s eyes widened dramatically and she relished in the look. Even Professor Snape had jerked minutely in shock.

“Yes. ‘Are’, as in present tense. They’re still up and running over our home. So you see, Hadrian and I are perfectly safe where we’re living.”

“But-”

“-You didn’t account for the fact that my mother’s blood runs through me? Well, that was careless of you.” She shrugged. “That’s okay. Now you know,” she said, just this side of condescending.

_Of course_ she had done research about blood wards since learning about them all those years ago. She would _never_ just ignore anything that had to do with her brother’s safety. Really, Dumbledore had really made a large oversight about the damn wards. It had taken her no time at all to conclude that she had been the anchor of the wards all along, not Petunia. Dumbledore clearly didn’t understand the meaning of _‘the anchor nurtures the wards as the anchor nurtures the protected’._ The wards were only as strong as the relationship between the anchor and protected was. The wards couldn’t have been tied to Petunia.

She had never seen the great Albus-too-many-middle-names-Dumbledore so lost for words before. It was kind of hilarious.

Dumbledore stood abruptly, going straight for the shelf behind him. The one that Hadrian had imploded earlier. He reached distractedly for some little metal doodad, muttering under his breath. The three of them watched him in mild concern. Oh Merlin. She had broken Albus Dumbledore.

As if to refute her thought, he turned back around, eyes clear and bright. “Oh my, I never would have thought…”  He looked at her piercingly. “You must be a very capable witch indeed, to have supported such heavy protective wards at a mere three years of age.”

She scoffed. “By your logic, Petunia couldn’t have done it either. She isn’t even magical.” She knew it. Dumbledore obviously knew nothing about the blood protection. It had less to do with magical power and more to do with her love for Hadrian. Though her magic probably did help.

“Yes, but she was an adult, fully capable of enduring it. Without your magic, you would have collapsed under the strain.”

Heather just gave the man a stony look. It wasn’t a strain at all for her to love Hadrian, just the opposite in fact. The same couldn’t be said for the Dursleys.

“Hadrian’s always said I was more stubborn than a gargoyle,” she settled for saying.

Dumbledore chortled, as if the last half hour of argument hadn’t happened. Well, she and Rian had burst enough of his bubbles for one day. Flashing her brother an exasperated look, they sat there and endured the random small talk and tea.

Once they were finally dismissed, they stood outside the door, sighing in sync.

Then Heather let a giggle escape.

Hadrian snorted.

They looked at each other.

Then they were laughing hysterically, clutching at each other in front of the gargoyle (they laughed too when they caught sight of it) outside the Headmaster’s office.

“-you called him – haha! – old man!”

“-well _you_ just dropped the thing about the blood wards on him!”

“-did you see his face?”

“-oh Merlin, his shelf will never be the same again!”

They tried to stifle their chuckles when the entrance swung open again, this time for Professor Snape to go through. Just like that, Heather sobered up. Hadrian peered sideways at her, then flickered his gaze to the Professor.

“Well, I’d better be going. Ron and Hermione must be dying of curiosity by now. Catch you later Heather!” More warily, he nodded at Professor Snape then hurried off.

As she watched her brother scamper off, leaving her alone with her Head of House, she didn’t know whether to thank or throttle him.

Feeling eyes on her, she turned to see the older wizard staring intently at her. Her skin itched oddly and she tensed to keep from fidgeting. As always, she was preternaturally aware of his dark gaze.

Heart beating a staccato rhythm, she blurted out, “Could I speak with you please?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys can also come chat with me on tumblr! I'm all for answering questions you have about the fic or anything else, really!
> 
> Here's the [link](https://lunarlooroo.tumblr.com/) to my tumblr!


	70. The Greatest Power

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the lovely comments! Reading each and every one of them made me really happy!
> 
> So, finally here's the chapter where Heather and Sev make up! Hope you enjoy reading! I did my best with this scene.

This had to be one of the most foolish things he had done in a long time. He should _not_ have led her down to his office. He should _not_ be staring at her from across his desk, waiting for recrimination to spill from her lips. Yet here he was.

He blamed her eyes. Those bright green orbs. He had never been able to say no to them when Lily turned them on him.

No, that was an excuse. There was just something about this girl that made him lose all reason.

“Well, what is it? Some of us have work to be doing.” Yes, be rude. Be curt. Be dismissive. All the better to drive her away as quickly as possible. It was better for everyone involved.

She took a deep breath. He braced himself for the barrage of pent-up aggression. This had been a long time coming. Perhaps he would even get a hateful accusation of ‘Deatheater scum!’ Nothing he had not heard before. At least then he could try to bring himself to throw her out. Salazar knew he couldn’t do it as he was now.

“Professor Snape.” He narrowed his eyes expectantly, waiting for her to get it over with.

“I’m here to apologise!” she said, ducking her head shamefully. She was wringing her hands nervously, shoulders hunched in on herself. In short, the very picture of repentance.

He stared confusedly at the display. She held her position, as if waiting for…something. Coming back to himself, he snapped at her to get out of the ridiculous posture. What the devil was the little chit doing?

She looked into his eyes, and _oh_ , those eyes of hers. They were pained, not a hint their usual brightness. The sight sent a pang through him, making his fists (heart) clench.

“I should have trusted you, yet I turned on you so quickly. Despite all you’ve done for Hadrian and I. Despite all the time we spent together. I have no excuse. All I can say is that I should have believed in you, and I’m sorry.” She looked wretched, a show of abject misery.

But he was still thrown. Nowhere in that slew of words was the explanation he was searching for. She was apologising to him. As if their dispute had been her fault. As if she had not seen the hideous mark on his arm.

He did what he always did when confused. He lashed out. “What are you blathering on about?”

She flinched. “I know that you’re furious with me for being so disrespectful and ungrateful. Especially after calling you childish and for standing you up after that. I’m sorry for those too.”

“Please, spare me this sickening display of mawkishness!” He almost regretted the reaction his harsh tone caused, but it had been a long day. What he had seen in the Dursleys’ minds still angered him beyond belief. What he had done was not nearly enough of a punishment. Not to mention that Albus had been far from pleased with his failure. All he wanted was to retreat to his quarters where a glass – or ten – of scotch awaited him.

 Massaging his temples, he was not at all prepared for her next words. “I know you’re a spy for the Headmaster.” He stiffened, hiding his panic.

“Where did you hear that?” he asked quietly, tersely. Calm. No use blowing his top. First, find out how much she knew. He thanked Merlin that his office and personal quarters were more secure than a Gringotts vault. Paranoia was necessary when one was in his profession.

She bit her lip nervously. “Hadrian told me that day when he woke up in the infirmary. Apparently the Headmaster told him a while ago.”

Severus gritted his teeth. Albus must have had a reason for divulging such information to a child. An impulsive, reckless child. He could not for the life of him see why. Well, it was hardly Albus’ own life he was risking. Only Severus’. He sneered bitterly at the thought.

“Who else knows?” he hissed. By the looks of things, it was a miracle the information had not spread through the whole of Gryffindor yet.

“No one else! Hadrian only told me, and neither of us will tell anyone. I give you my word. We even had privacy wards in place when he told me, so you can be assured no one overheard our conversation.”

“I suppose that is the best I can ask for, given the circumstances.” He breathed out a long-suffering sigh. His headache was reappearing with a vengeance. What he wouldn’t give for a Pain Relief Potion right now. He didn’t trust Potter to keep a secret, even if it was the boy’s own life at stake. Which was exactly what was happening, given that it was his job to protect the bloody idiot.

“I understand now that you have your reasons for treating Hadrian the way you do. It can’t be easy, being in your position. Not only that, the way I spoke to you was utterly rude. I was being a brat and I took my frustration out on you without understanding the whole picture. I shouldn’t have done that. You’re my Professor and Head of House and I respect you greatly.”

His eyes snapped to hers at that last statement, the words evoking strong feelings in him. Never, in all his years of teaching, had a student said that to him. Understandably so, given his usual behaviour. He knew what the students called him. ‘Dungeon Bat’, ‘Greasy Git’. He was here to teach them Potions, not coddle them, and that had not endeared him to the little beasts at all.

Yet Heather… Heather had never been put off by that. She took his snark and abrasiveness in stride, as long as he left her brother out of it.  She even seemed to _like_ his lessons, coming back for more, even. Before he had gone and ruined them, that was.

She was looking at him earnestly now, sincerity radiating from her every pore. He was struck by the moment. How long had it been since he had locked gazes with her? How long since she had deigned to look upon him? He had studiously avoided her in the past weeks, unwilling to see contempt again in those eyes.

Now, though, he gorged himself on the sight. Her wavy midnight hair. Her petite frame and cream complexion. He was reassured by the healthy glow to her skin, save for the dark shadows under her eyes. The elegant slope of her nose, her high cheekbones. The coral blush that painted her face as he stared at her. Her cupid bow lips…

Cursing inwardly, he dragged his gaze back to her eyes, unwilling to look away now that he could. The embarrassment he found there told him that he had been silent for too long.

He cleared his throat and chose his words carefully. “I am not entirely…blameless in this event,” he began reluctantly, “You were simply protecting your brother, as you always do. I should not have let my anger drive me into retaliating. And yes, I may have framed the Legilimency as practice, but you and I are both aware it was far from it. It was a gross invasion of your privacy, Heather, and I apologise.”

He was able to keep from grimacing at that. He didn’t often apologise. Not when the last time was when he had begged for forgiveness outside the Gryffindor Commons and _still_ Lily had refused him. But perhaps if anyone deserved this, it was Heather.

The effect of his words was vast. As he was speaking, her spine straightened out of its slump, eyes opened wide in hope, mouth curling upwards in a soft smile. “It’s okay, I forgive you,” she said easily, like it was that simple. Perhaps it was, to her.

He felt like the earth had split open under him, yet at the same time he was soaring through the air. He had no words for the emotions he felt, but he just knew that they did not bode well. Unable to help himself, he exhaled in relief and something else.

(Perhaps a part of him knew, right then, what had just transpired.)

A charged silence descended upon them. Resisting the urge to lick his lips nervously, he wracked his mind for something, _anything_ , to break the tension.

“So, _both_ Weasley twins?”

He almost clapped a hand against his mouth. There he went, spitting out sarcastic jabs at the first sign of discomfort. And right after they had reached a truce of sorts. Perhaps she would storm out now, having that thrown in her face.

But she would always defy his expectations. Instead of the bluster he expected, her blush deepened even as a coy smile appeared.

“Do you habitually leave things half-done? I assure you, I do not,” she said loftily, adding a wink for good measure.

It took a second of thought before he understood the reference.

_‘Do you habitually leave tasks half-done? I assure you, I do not,’_ he had said, years ago, to a tiny waif of a girl with the clearest green eyes while out restocking his potions inventory.

He couldn’t help it; he gave a bark of laughter. He could tell that he had shocked her with the uncharacteristic display, but he didn’t regret it. Out of everyone, perhaps she had more right to his true self than any other. He wondered when this slip of a witch had become his closest, dare he say it, friend.

“You took my words horribly out of context. By no means is selecting potions ingredients comparable to your amorous tryst with those Weasleys.” And damn it all, but he was somehow pleased that she had remembered his words to her from when they had met all those years ago.

 “My relationship with Fred and George can hardly be described as a _‘tryst’,_ let alone an amorous one,” she scoffed offhandedly. “They’re like brothers to me!” At his dubious look, she continued, “It was just the one kiss! And it felt like I was kissing Hadrian.”

He smirked wickedly. “Well, well. This is interesting information indeed. Minerva will surely be disappointed that she lost the bet.”

Her eyes widened adora- _stop_. “What bet?”

“Oh, just the one the teachers all had regarding your relationship with your Weasleys. Popular opinion seemed to be split between a ménage à trois or a twisted love triangle.” He barely managed to withhold the snickers that fought to escape. Her scandalised expression was too precious for words.

“And who wins the bet?”

“I do, of course.” He neglected to mention that he had been forced to participate by the old pussycat and only made his wager of _‘Neither’_ while he had been utterly convinced that she would be swept off her feet by the Diggory boy. He could never have foreseen the Potter boy and Diggory pairing. Minerva, the sly witch, had no doubt put down _‘Both’._

She burst into delighted laughter, amused that her Professors were speculating on her affairs.

Once her chuckles died down, however, the sombre expression she sported spoke volumes. “We won’t be able to keep meeting like this again, will we?” It was baffling, how she seemed truly regretful of this fact. It struck him that she really did enjoy his company. It was a foreign concept. He loathed to deny her anything, but she was right.

“Too many eyes will be on me now that He is back.” No need to expound further on who _He_ was.

Nodding mournfully, she sighed. “I understand.” She peered up at him shyly. “I’ll miss this.”

Again, the words hit him with the force of a _Diffindo_. Intellectually, he had known that she tolerated his company. She would not have spent all those Wednesdays in his office otherwise. He was nonetheless shocked by her declaration. He realised that he would not enjoy the forced separation either. The past few weeks of avoidance had been harder to bear than he cared to admit.

For lack of anything better to say, he reverted to lecturing. “That does not mean that you are permitted to leave off on your Potions studies. I will not stand for incompetents in my NEWTs class.”

“No! Of course not.” She blinked, smiling slightly. “I have several ideas for my runic potions, thanks to your advice. And I’ll continue improving my occlumency of course. I won’t let all your effort in teaching me be wasted.”

“See that you do,” he said imperiously. Heather would go far in the Potions field. Perhaps she would consider… No, such hope would do him no good.

They looked at each other, not speaking. After a pause, she gestured tentatively to the door. “Well, I’ll see you next term, Professor.”

Right, the students would be taking the train home tomorrow. Impulsively, he stood and walked her to the door.  As he reached to open it, she wrapped her arms around his waist, burrowing herself into him. He froze, not sure how to react. As soon as it had begun, it ended and she darted out of his office.

He stood at the spot foolishly. Even as his pulse raced in excitement, his chest ached something fierce. That had seemed too much like a permanent farewell.

~~~

Seated comfortably across the train carriage from Heather, Hadrian shot his sister another worried glance. She was reading one of those old books of hers. It was by no means a strange sight; she was obsessed with them. What _was_ odd though, was the forlorn air about her. She even looked out the window occasionally, just to breathe a little sigh.

That wasn’t like her at all. No, when she read those precious Half-Blood Prince books of hers, she usually had a tiny smile on her face and couldn’t bear to tear her attention away from them. As she was now, he could probably snatch it right out of her loose grip. And she would normally _never_ allow that. As much as Heather shared with him, she was inordinately possessive of ‘her Prince’, as she called the original owner of those books.

Hadrian bit his lip when Heather looked out the window and sighed _again._ He wasn’t really sure what to do. For all that they were typically joint at the hip, he was never as good at reading her as she could him. It was probably an elder sibling thing. Or even a Slytherin thing. Likely both.

Ron had long since fallen asleep after his seventh chocolate frog. And he wouldn’t be much help, besides. Emotional range of a teaspoon and whatnot.

Hermione was engrossed in her book about some esoteric topic or another. She was scary when disturbed in such moments. Not that she would be much help either. Hermione had a sort of hero worship for his sister that wouldn’t be useful in this situation.

If only the twins were around. They always knew what to say to cheer Heather up. He’d initially been a teeny tiny bit jealous of that. (Okay, he was lying. It was a _lot_ jealous.) Now, though, he knew that Heather wouldn’t love him any less with them in her life. He hoped they got back from their prank soon.

The door to the compartment slid open and he perked up, praying for FredGeorge to walk through. It wasn’t them, but he couldn’t lie; he wasn’t disappointed to see the person who came in.

“Cedric!” He beamed happily at his boyfriend (manfully refraining from flushing at the term) and scooted over to give him space to sit. “You’re done with your party?”

“It was hardly a party; just a little farewell gathering,” Cedric teased lightly. Hadrian pouted a little at the reminder that his boyfriend had graduated. Sure, he was proud of the top NEWT marks he had received despite all the mess of the tournament, but this meant that Cedric wouldn’t be at Hogwarts anymore! Seeming to sense his distress, his boyfriend leaned down and pecked him on the cheek in greeting.

Turning pink, Hadrian squeezed Cedric’s hand in return. It had been months since they got together, but he still wasn’t used to it. Sure, they’d exchanged a few hugs and kisses (except on the lips), but that was all. To be frank, Hadrian didn’t think he was ready for more… Which was why he thought it was so sweet that Cedric was so accommodating. He was pretty sure the older boy would have been happy for _more_. Hadrian snuggled further into Cedric’s side, sighing contentedly.

“…only _fourteen_ …” he thought he heard Cedric mumble.

Hadrian furrowed his brows then shrugged internally. Whatever. His boyfriend was weird like that sometimes.

“Hey, what’s up with your sister? I’ve never seen her so distracted before.” Hadrian put all thoughts about Cedric’s eccentricities away and looked over at his sister again. She didn’t seem to have registered the Hufflepuff’s presence at all!

“She’s been like that since this morning. She was fine just yesterday…” Perhaps he shouldn’t have left her with Professor Snape after all? That was the only thing he could think of that would put her in such a mood.

“So who is it?”

“What do you mean? Who is what?”

“Who’s the lucky fellow or gal?”

Hadrian looked up into grey eyes oddly. “I don’t follow. What are you talking about?”

“Y’know, the person she’s hung up over.”

“What? What makes you think she’s hung up over someone?”

Cedric tilted his head cutely. “Well, few things can put that look on a face. Pining for someone is the top of that list,” he said, pointing up his index finger. “I would know. I, well, had the same look for months before the Yule Ball.”

Hadrian giggled as his boyfriend averted his eyes in embarrassment. Taking pity on him, he said, “So you think Heather has a crush on someone?”

“Seems like rather more than a crush, from the looks of it.”

Hadrian turned back to his sister consideringly. Hmm, Cedric might have a point there. She kept looking out the window, as if waiting for someone. But if it was a student, then wouldn’t she be looking to the door?  Of course, that didn’t mean much. He doubted anything short of infatuation could pull her attention from those books of hers. He swore that she was in love with the unknown Prince or something.

“Heather-” Hadrian started, only to be cut off by the loud arrival of Fred and George.

Heather jerked, looking around the room in surprise. Ron groaned, waking from his nap. Hermione glared fiercely at the two redheads guffawing on the floor before returning to her reading.

Hadrian sighed. He’d talk to her another time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me on tumblr at [Lunarlooroo](https://lunarlooroo.tumblr.com/)!


	71. Weasleys' Whereabouts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all you lovely readers for the comments! I hope you enjoy this chapter as well!

After a highly awkward parting at King’s Cross Station (in which Amos Diggory made snide digs at Hadrian about being unworthy of being co-champion of the Triwizard Tournament while Sirius made barely-concealed threats to Cedric out of Hadrian’s earshot) they all finally reached the Burrow. Heather and Hadrian would floo home the next morning after staying the night, at Mrs Weasley’s insistence. Not that they protested much.

It was when they were finished with their hearty dinner that Sirius and Remus asked to speak with them, sombre looks on their faces.  A prickle of unease passed through Heather. She wondered what could have made even Sirius look so, well, _serious_.

Mrs Weasley, bless her, bustled them into Charlie’s unoccupied room to give them some privacy. Or as much as they could with one of FredGeorge’s Extendable Ears under the door, of course. She rolled her eyes at the rubber ear, flicking up a wandless privacy charm that she knew would work against the listening device. Really, they expected to fool her with one of those things? She’d helped make them!

She sat next to Hadrian, waiting for the two men to start talking. She had a feeling she wouldn’t want to be standing for this. “What did you want to talk about?” she asked eventually, when all they did was look at them uncomfortably.

“Well, the other day, Dumbledore asked us and Snape to go to your Aunt’s house.” Sirius coughed into his hand, nudging for Remus to continue.

Her eyes widened briefly in surprise. She’d known that Professor Snape had visited them, but she didn’t expect Sirius and Remus to have gone with him. She’d forgotten to ask him about how that went.

She smiled a little, remembering the talk she’d had with her teacher. She was glad that they had cleared the air. The situation wasn’t ideal, but at least they could be friends in private. Her heart beat a little faster when she thought about the hug at the end. She didn’t know what had come over her. Professor Snape wasn’t exactly someone people thought was huggable, but it had felt nice.

“I hope you pranked them good,” Hadrian muttered viciously, snapping Heather out of her thoughts. Sirius smirked weakly and shrugged.

Remus coughed. “Well, about that. That’s what we wanted to talk about. I don’t know if you know, but the Headmaster originally sent us there to persuade Petunia to take you in again for your protection.” Heather nodded sharply. The old man was really presumptuous. She held in a grimace of distaste at the thought of the man. “There might have been a change of plans when we got there, however.”

Oh, what did the three wizards do when they were there? She thought about what she’d told Professor Snape and what she knew of his protectiveness. Sighing, she asked “Did you leave them alive, at least? I don’t want to have to be your defence counsel _again_ , Sirius.”

“Ignore Heather.” Hadrian leaned forward eagerly. “Tell me you got rid of the bodies.”

“Unfortunately, we didn’t kill the bastards.” Sirius narrowed his gaze defensively. “How do you know we did something anyway?”

“Hah! As if you’d have been able to hold back. I bet Professor Snape told you some things about our childhood. There’s no way he would have allowed us to go back.” She trusted her Professor enough to know that he hadn’t divulged anything she’d told him in confidence. Besides, if he had, these two would have been much more overbearingly worried.

“So it’s all true?” Remus asked haltingly. “About the…abuse?” He cursed himself for the blunt question. Perhaps he should have worded that better. His cubs both frowned. Yep, definitely should have used another word.

“Well, that would depend on what you mean,” Heather-flower said wryly. “Yes, we stayed in a cupboard while living there. And there wasn’t much food to be had.”

“Not to mention that time with the aconite,” Hadrian said in a too-cheery voice.

Remus suppressed the instinctive grimace he had at the word. What did Prongslet mean by that?

“Aconite, what, did they poison you or something?” Sirius asked jokingly. Well, not like Remus hadn’t been itching to ask. He wouldn’t have quite put it like that, though.

“Got it in one! It was good that Heather detected it before we ate.” Hadrian shrugged casually, as if it wasn’t a big deal that their relatives had tried to murder them.

A furious growl slipped past his lips before he could stop it. Those disgusting muggles had tried to kill his cubs! The irony that it was aconite – _wolfsbane_ – they had used wasn’t lost on him.

“We should have maimed them before leaving,” Sirius spat furiously. Both Moony and Remus concurred. No one mentioned anything, but he was sure his eyes were currently amber in colour. “At least Snape got to castrate the pig…”

Both his cubs perked up at that little titbit. Suddenly, Remus wished that he had done that himself. Without a spell.

Heather burst into laughter. “Professor Snape really has a castrating spell? I thought he was kidding.” Strange, why _would_ Severus be discussing that with his teenaged goddaughter? Not that he was opposed to teaching the cubs that spell.

“I just wish we hadn’t apparated away so quickly. I’d like to have heard his screams of pain.” Sirius sighed longingly, vindictive pleasure gleaming in his grey eyes.

Hadrian snorted. “It wouldn’t have lasted long. He’s so unfit, one scream would have knocked all the breath out of him.”

“Anyway,” Remus inserted, “you two won’t be going back there. Not if Siri and I have anything to say about it.” Severus, as well, he suspected. He was unexpectedly protective of these two.

Smiling, Heather shook her head. “You two needn’t have worried. I’m legal, remember? Headmaster Dumbledore can’t force us to do anything. Thanks for everything though.”

“Yeah,” Hadrian said, nodding, “I bet you played some epic pranks on them, too.”

“Sure we did! We gave them the ol’ Marauder treatment! Remus spread nasty rumours about them to the neighbours while I jinxed the entire house!” As Padfoot launched into an eager retelling of the spells he’d cast on the Dursleys, Remus ran the whole conversation over again in his head.

There was just something about it that nagged at him. Why was it that Severus had known about the Dursleys and yet he and Sirius only just found out? Had Heather told him? She always spoke of Severus rather fondly, Remus knew. Was it because he was her Head of House? But Remus remembered the dressing down she’d given Sirius for insulting the other man. It didn’t seem like just the typical respect a student had for their Professor.

If Remus was being honest, he was rather envious of the relationship they had. They didn’t exactly broadcast it, but Remus had the feeling that they were closer than they liked to show. Hell, Heather had sided with Severus against her own godfather! Even after a year or so, Heather still seemed to hold him and Sirius at arm’s length. Hadrian liked them well enough, but he mostly took his cues from his sister. He didn’t begrudge the siblings their distance, of course. He berated himself every day for not being there for them while growing up, werewolf restriction laws be damned. Still, he hoped that they would eventually be able to trust him more. Or at the very least Sirius, their actual godfather.

At any rate, he was glad that Severus didn’t let his hatred for James taint his interaction with his children. Of course, they were Lily’s children as well. Perhaps that was why he seemed to have more of an affinity with Heather rather than Hadrian.

He supposed it _would_ take a daughter of Lily’s to reach out to the grumpy sourpuss that was Severus Snape.

~~~

“Rian, Icarus is here for you!”

Her brother practically skidded down the stairs, almost tripping over a foot stool. Well, he would have, if not for Heather’s quick action in nudging it out of the way with magic.

“Real smooth, Hadrian,” Heather said teasingly. His hair was in a mess, clothes rumpled from his mad dash. Despite that, his eyes were glowing with excitement as he made his way towards the elegant eagle owl on their windowsill. (And, really, those owl restriction wards had been a devil to set up. At least they knew their mail was secure. She would have to thank Bill again.) “ _Another_ love letter?”

Just a week ago, that comment would have brought a cute blush to his cheeks. Now, though, he just stuck his tongue out and retorted, “Jealous?”

Ahh, they grew up so fast… She sighed and pouted. He wasn’t fun anymore. She supposed teasing him every time his daily letter from Cedric came had inured him to the embarrassment.

She waved him off to go read his letter. Speaking of owls, she was still waiting on one from FredGeorge. They would normally have sent her at least two by now. Come to think of it, the only mail they’d gotten was from Gringotts, Cedric, Bill and her one customary greeting from the Greengrass sisters. None from the other Weasleys, Hermione or even Sirius and Remus.

Odd.

Hedwig had even returned in a grumpy mood with her letter for Fred and George undelivered just yesterday, even though that had never happened before. The snowy owl was an excellent postbird and always delivered their mail faster than most others. She had been rather flustered at the failed attempt, the poor dear.

Perhaps they should pop in at the Burrow to check up on the Weasleys? Maybe later, once Hadrian finished with his reply. Experience told her she wouldn’t be able to drag him away before that.

At this rate, she’d soon have to pull Cedric aside for a little… _chat_. Just the two of them. Simply to find out his plans for his relationship with Rian now that he had graduated. Sirius and Remus would probably agree to keep Hadrian occupied for an afternoon. Or perhaps a whole day.

Well, Hadrian would take 2 hours, at least, to finish his letter. Until then, she’d go brew some potions. She’d almost perfected her Runic Potions index. Just a bit more fine-tuning to the equation was needed. Soon, two years of hard work would come to fruition.

She had a brilliant plan for after she graduated. And she was sure the Potions Guild would be very obliging once they read her research.

~~~

Wards were wrapped tightly around the Weasley home. The very empty home.

While there were usually some muggle-repelling and alert wards present, the Burrow had never been so heavily-fortified before. It was understandable for the Weasleys to improve the defence around their home, what with recent events. However, these particular wards weren’t designed for mere defence. They were lock-down wards. That in itself told Heather that the Weasleys hadn’t just all gone out for some family time. This was meant for securing a home on a more long-term basis. It would be too draining to set up and take down for just short trips outside.

Well.

That wasn’t good.

Paranoia made her drag Hadrian home immediately and ramp up all the wards. Something had made the Weasleys decide they needed to evacuate their homestead and secure it as tightly as possible.

“They didn’t even tell us anything! Could something have happened to them?” Hadrian mused aloud. He gasped. “Maybe they were under ambush and had to flee!”

Heather shook her head. “No, no I don’t think so. Those wards were much too complex to be last minute work. Those kinds take days, at least, to set up.” Besides, she didn’t think any of the Weasleys had that kind of expertise with warding. Besides Bill, of course. From their letters, she knew he was still on his long-term stint in Egypt and wasn’t due back until next week. “This must have been planned.”

Her brother scrunched his face up. “Ron didn’t mention anything.”

“Neither did Fred and George.” Biting her lip in worry, she added, “Let’s not jump to conclusions. There was nothing in the papers, so it probably wasn’t an attack. We’ll just have to wait for them to contact us.” Perhaps she would write to Bill if they still didn’t hear from them after a week.

As it turned out, the wait didn’t last very long.

Just the next morning, a familiar owl clacked its beak on the kitchen window. Hadrian hurried to let in, for once leaving his reply to Cedric half-written.

With trepidation, Heather took it when it was handed to her. As Rian petted and fed Pig, she read the letter – more of a short note – aloud.

_“Dear Smidget, apologies for the lack of word. A particularly old and stubborn bee has been stinging us when we try to reach the treetop. It was quite insistent. It even herded a pack of weasels into the doghouse the other day. Next thing you know, it’ll be luring birds in next week. Anyway, we’re not the type to let that stop us. We’ll try to climb the tree again soon. Love, Gemini.”_

She shook her head at the twins’ cryptic message. At least she knew they were alright.

“What d’you reckon that means?”

“Well,” she hummed, “it seems like someone’s been trying to stop the twins from sending me letters. The Weasleys have also been convinced to stay somewhere else. And I guess someone will try to persuade us to do the same.” What she couldn’t quite figure out was what ‘bee’ and ‘doghouse’ meant.

“The bee is probably the Headmaster. ‘Dumbledore’ is a lesser used word for bumblebee.”

She looked dubiously at her brother.

“What? Hermione was obsessed with etymology for a while. Naturally, she tried to find out the meanings of the names of powerful wizards.”

“I’m more amazed that you remember that.”

“I just happened to, okay?” he mumbled defensively. “Anyway, that just leaves ‘doghouse’. Are they in trouble, you think? That’s what ‘in the doghouse’ means, right?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. That’s a muggle phrase, so I don’t think the they even know it. Besides, why would Dumbledore get them in trouble?”

Hadrian’s head shot up. “I got it! They’re staying at Sirius’ house! Sirius and Remus haven’t written either, right?”

That made sense. Why Sirius’ house, though? He hated it. She’d never seen it, but from what she’d heard, it was a horrible place to live. That was, of course, providing he hadn’t exaggerated like he usually did. She doubted there were really rows of mummified elf heads mounted on the walls.

“Why don’t we go visit them?” Hadrian suggested. “Just to make sure they’re okay.”

She agreed wholeheartedly. Where had the man said his house was again?

“Right! He lives at-” Rian cut himself off, frowning. “…I don’t remember? It’s on the tip of my tongue…” Shaking his head, “Nope, I lost it.”

Heather could have _sworn_ that the dog animagus had told them his address before. Usually when he whined about how awful it was. Which was about every other time they met. Like Rian, however, it just felt like she couldn’t recall it. But it wasn’t like she had forgotten, either. It was a little like there was a block preventing her from remembering. It made for a distinctly odd feeling.

“Maybe it’s some sort of secrecy spell or something. There are such things, right, Heather?”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I suppose we have no choice but to wait for them to come get us. But how are they going to find us? No one can get to us through the forest and our floo is also restricted to a case-by-case invitation only.”

“Ugh, we can’t find them, they can’t find us,” Hadrian groaned. “Who was the smart arse who came up with this idea?”

“Dumbledore definitely underestimated how well-hidden we are. I bet he thought he’d be able to find us using our address. The only reason he even has it is that book Hogwarts uses to track students.” Privately, she thought it’d be hilarious to watch Dumbledore stumble through the woods trying to find their Unplottable house. Only the thought that he’d probably send others to do the work made her reconsider. She didn’t really want to cause Professor Snape to have to do that.

“We should probably just make it easier on them. You were planning on going to the Ministry for your Apparation license next week, right? We could go shopping in Diagon after that. They’ll probably find us while we’re there.”

“Good idea, Rian!” They’d have to be cautious, though. Her brother had a rather large target on his head.

~~~

Their outing went about as expected. After passing the tests and getting her license, Heather side-alonged Hadrian to Diagon. They shopped a little, not really buying much since their supply lists hadn’t come through yet. Halfway through lunch at the Leaky Cauldron though, they were joined by Sirius and Remus. She had to keep from snorting at the horridly fake surprise they tried to convey at the ‘coincidence’. Heather suspected that Dumbledore had an informant in the bar.

After a vague explanation about being invited back to Sirius’ house ‘to catch up’, Heather and Hadrian were apparated out of the place. They landed in a Muggle suburb with nondescript houses lined in rows. The street sign said that they were somewhere called ‘Grimmauld Place’.

“This is where you’ve been staying?” Hadrian asked curiously. Heather was as disbelieving as her brother. She couldn’t really imagine blood purists like the Blacks living amongst Muggles.

“You haven’t seen anything yet!” Sirius said, grinning. “Literally.”

Remus rolled his eyes at the other man and handed both of them a piece of paper. “Read it, but don’t say it aloud. Remember those words.”

Looking down at the slightly crumpled paper, she noted that it said: _‘The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is at Number 12 Grimmauld Place’_.

She wanted to ask what this ‘Order of the Phoenix’ was, but was interrupted by movement in front of her. For seemingly no reason at all, two houses in front of them were pushed aside to make way for another house that seemed to sprout from nothing. The bizarre sight garnered little more than a slow blink from her. Her godfather seemed put out that her reaction was so muted. Well, she _was_ a witch. She’d seen weirder things.

“The _Fidelius_ Spell?” she guessed. _Of course_. That was why she and Rian hadn’t been able to recall the Sirius’ address no matter how hard they tried. Now that the Secret had been revealed to them, she could remember all the times the address had been mentioned.

“Should have known you would recognise it.” Remus shook his head fondly. “What _don’t_ you know, Heather?”

“How to relax!” Hadrian chirped cheerily. She shot him an affronted look. The traitor.

“I _do_ know how to relax. I’m friends with George and Fred, after all.”

Sirius draped an arm on each of their shoulders and herded them towards the door. “Speaking of those two miscreants, did you know the Weasleys are staying here as well?”

“Oh, really?” Heather asked, wide-eyed and innocent.

“What for?” Rian added in the same tone.

Behind them, Remus narrowed his eyes. Why did he have the feeling that the two knew more than they let on?

“Ahh, well,” Sirius answered, oblivious, “Headmaster’s orders. What with old Snakeface around, it wasn’t safe for them at the Burrow. Anyway, I humbly welcome you-” With a large flourish, he slid the door open and bowed. “-to the manor of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black!” Right on cue, it seemed, a high shrilly voice began screaming bloody murder. “Or what I like to call, Hell on Earth.”

As she took in the dusty gloom, badly-patched furniture and _actual mounted elf heads on the walls_ , Heather wondered if she and Rian should have just stayed home after all.

~~~

They were quickly bustled off into the rooms where they would be staying. This set alarm bells off in Heather’s mind, because it kind of sounded like they would be here for quite a while. She’d thought they would stay for dinner then go home, or maybe stay a night or two. Really, though, it seemed like they were to stay for the rest of the summer.

Which was preposterous, really. The Nest was perfectly secure. Besides, she hadn’t brought the potions work that she planned to work on.

It wasn’t like she _didn’t_ want to spend the summer with the Weasleys and her godfathers. It was just that she and Hadrian had gotten accustomed to living in their own home, even if they did floo over to the Burrow frequently.

“You can just ask Dobby to bring your stuff over! Since he’s a bonded house elf, he can get past the _Fidelius_ now that you can.” Sirius pouted, widening his eyes for a full puppy dog effect. “Don’t you wanna spend some quality time with ol’ Padfoot and Moony?”

“Well-” she hedged.

“Did I mention the Black family library and fully-stocked potions lab?”

“-I suppose it would be nice,” she finished eagerly.

Rian coughed into his hand, muttering something that sounded like ‘nerd’. She smiled sweetly at him. “Oh dear. I wonder how you’re going to mail Cedric now. His owl probably won’t be able to find you.”

“Heather!” he whined. She just chuckled smugly and skipped off to find her friends.

~~~

“Smidget!”

She heard the twin chorus of cries and had about a second to brace herself for impact. As expected, two red blurs soon crashed into her and four hands wrapped around her as they went tumbling to the – _extremely_ dusty! – ground.

“Castor, Pollux,” she greeted to show that she had received their letters. They grinned cheekily, fist-bumping. She would have to ask them how they’d gotten mail out from under Dumbledore’s nose.

“C’mon! Come up to our-”

“-room and we can catch up.”

“Little Ronnie’s probably in the kitchen-”

“-with your brother and Hermione.”

Ron, Hadrian, Fred and George were sharing a room while she, Hermione and Ginny were in another. Good, that meant they would have privacy while they talked. Once in the room, she secured it with a few wards. She was finally 17 and could use her wand. Of course, the law hadn’t been as big an impairment for her because of her wandless magic. Still, more intricate spells required the use of her wand.

“So, Dumbledore? Mail ban?” Heather asked, getting right down to business.

Fred grimaced. “Ugh, the old man just showed up a few days into the hols and convinced Mum and Dad to move us here.”

“Which okay,” George cut in, “made some sense. But then he forbid us from mailing you and Hadrian.”

Fred held the point of his wand against his throat and whispered a spell. Smiling genially, he then intoned in a mimicry of Dumbledore’s voice, “‘For their own safety. Don’t worry my boys, we will soon invite them to stay here as well.’”

She laughed. Wow, that tone was spot on. She could almost picture the twinkle in his eyes.

“Great right?” They sat up eagerly. “We were thinking of putting the spell into a sweet. We’ll need your input later.”

Heather nodded. “Sure. I might have a few ideas. But anyway, how did you send us that letter?” That elicited proud smiles. It wasn’t everyday someone could fool Albus Dumbledore. (Heather and Hadrian were rather large exceptions to the rule.)

“Well, our first few letters were-”

“-promptly returned to our beds.”

“One time he even caught us right before Pig could fly off.”

“You know that disappointed-”

“-face he gives? Yeah, double it.”

“But remember the undetectable-”

“-invisible ink we were working on?”

Oh, they meant the one that would reveal itself only with a specific spell and passphrase. Fred and George had come up with the idea after being caught passing messages in class. Unfortunately, they had only managed to get the ink to stay invisible for a few hours before it wore off.

“Did you two work out the kinks in it?”

They smiled sheepishly. “Well, not _exactly_.”

“We figured Dumbledore couldn’t intercept _your_ mail, just ours.”

“So as long as he was fooled enough to allow the letter out-”

“-we’d be all clear. We went ahead and wrote in that ink.”

She laughed when she realised what they meant. The ink had been invisible when Dumbledore checked it, but the words appeared again by the time she received it. “So _that’s_ why the letter was written on the back of a Honeydukes’ order form. I just thought that was a _very_ unsubtle hint for Christmas.”

George scoffed. “Oh please. We’re expecting _much_ better presents for Christmas.”

“You brought it upon yourself,” Fred said, wagging his finger at her, “Setting the bar with your dragonhide gloves and secret bases.”

Heather didn’t bother pointing out that it was just the _one_ secret base. Shaking her head, she muttered, “Only you two could manage to fool Dumbledore using a defective potion. You’re lucky he has a weak spot for the candy you were ‘ordering’.” They just beamed impishly, as if wracking their brains for a way to go around a powerful wizard’s order not to send letters to their friend was something they did regularly.

Privately, she thought that great Christmas presents were the least they deserved for all that they did for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me on [tumblr](https://lunarlooroo.tumblr.com/) to talk more about WHfP!


	72. The Old Crowd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all awesome people for the comments! I'm so happy that you've all liked the fic enough to stick around as long as you have! I recently posted a sequel that has short ficlets that I wrote in response to tumblr prompts. They'll all be in the WHfP universe, though some may diverge from the actual story. You can go check it out if you'd like!
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy the newest chapter!

Heather stumbled upon a lady with bright pink hair as she came out of the bedroom she shared with Hermione and Ginny. Or, more accurately, the unfamiliar witch stumbled over her _._ Only her grip on the door handle saved her from taking a tumble onto the hideously grimy floorboards. The loud thud told her that the other witch had not been so fortunate.

“I’m so-”

“Oh damnit-”

“- **sorry!** ”

She looked at the stranger as their apologies ran over each other. Their eyes met and before they knew it, both burst into laughter. Heather offered a hand to help the other up, turning it into a handshake when they were both stood facing each other.

“Hi, I’m Heather Potter. Sorry again for the crash.”

The witch grinned cheekily, showing that there was no harm done. “Nah, don’t worry ‘bout it. Happens to me all the time. The name’s Nymphadora Tonks, but you better call me Tonks or I’ll have to hex you!”

Tonks’ cheeriness was infectious. She seemed like the kind of person that could befriend anyone. She just had that sort of air about her. Or perhaps it was just her hair.

“Nice to meet you. Not to be rude, but what exactly are you doing here? Are you a friend of Sirius’?” Because she didn’t think just anyone would be allowed in when it was being used for a safehouse. They even had a _Fidelius_ for Morgana’s sake!

Her new acquaintance smiled wryly. “I’m actually more of a cousin, actually. My mum’s a Black. But anyway, I’m here cos’ I’m a member of the Order!”

_What_?

“Tonks!” Both of them tensed when another voice growled harshly. “What are you thinking, going around telling others about top secret information!”

Heather turned towards the man, surprised to see Alastor Moody standing a few feet away. He seemed recovered from his time being trapped by Bartemius Crouch Jr.

“It’s not like she can’t be trusted!” Tonks said, rolling her eyes. “She’s one of the _Potters_. Besides, she’s not a kid. She’s already 17.” Technically, she hadn’t officially been a kid since being emancipated at 15, but Heather didn’t bother to say it.

The retired Auror pointed accusingly at Heather. “Anyone could be impersonating the brat! Remember, _Constant Vigilance!”_

She raised an unimpressed brow. “Rest assured. I am, indeed, Heather Potter.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, girl,” the man said, still not letting up on his suspicious glare. “Who were the Potters’ Secret Keeper?”

“Peter Pettigrew,” she stated in a bored tone.

“What is Heather Potter’s Patronus form?”

“A snidget.” Were these questions really supposed to ascertain her identity? Anyone could answer these if they were really one of Voldemort’s men. It would be better to simply ask her to cast the Patronus. In fact…

“ _Expecto Patronum,”_ she cast quickly, before Moody could get a little wand-happy. Her tiny ball of misty fluff shot out of her wand, fluttering around her head. The wizard’s glare finally let up, though his eyes remained narrowed on her as he backed away out of the hallway.

“Wow! Jeez, I never really expected a Hogwarts student to be able to cast a Patronus!” Tonks exclaimed brightly. “Is that a snidget? How adorable!”

Heather smiled at the excitable woman. She really knew how to lighten up the mood. To her shock, she saw Tonks’ hair shift from her pink shade into a startling violet. Seeming to catch onto her surprise, Tonks said, “Oh, yeah, I do that sometimes. I’m a Metamorphmagus!”

Hmm, that was quite a rare skill to have. She had only read a few mentions of it in a few books. It was probably nifty to be able to change her appearance at will. “That’s cool.” She paused, remembering their earlier train of conversation before Moody came in. “But what was it you were saying about the ‘Order’?”

Tonks pouted a little, probably expecting more interest in her shapeshifting abilities than that. She quickly bounced back, though. “Well, it’s actually an organisation spearheaded by Dumbledore to oppose You-Know-Who. It’s sort of underground, though – very hush-hush. I probably shouldn’t be in it, being an Auror and all.” She shrugged casually, as if saying, _‘Well, what can you do?’_

“So like a vigilante group,” Heather stated dryly. Dumbledore seemed just like the kind to be involved in this kind of thing. Heck, the old man had probably been ‘subtly’ trying to recruit Rian since his first year! To be honest, she was more shocked at the fact that Tonks was an Auror, with how clumsy she appeared. Though the shapeshifting was probably really useful for undercover operations.

The now orange-haired witch just smiled slyly at her. “Well, look at the time. Mrs Weasley should be setting out breakfast right about now. Boy, am I starved! I could eat an Abraxan! Night shifts are the worst!”

Heather rolled her eyes at the obvious topic change, following her downstairs to get some food. Still, she wondered who else was in this so-called Order.

~~~

So the full name of the group was The Order of the Phoenix, which explained the Secret for the Fidelius. Sounded grander than it needed to be, in her opinion. Also, they were having a meeting tonight. Of course, the only reason she knew that was the twins. And _they_ knew because of their Extendable Ears.

And _of course_ they just had to tell Ron. Who told Hermione and Rian and Ginny.

Which somehow led to all seven of them crouched in the boys’ room around a rubber ear.

And yet somehow this wasn’t even top ten of the weirdest situations she had found herself in. How had this become her life?

Dumbledore’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. The meeting started off fairly innocuously. Just normal pleasantries first and welcoming a few new members. She was surprised to find out Bill (wasn’t he supposed to be in Egypt?) and Charlie were two of them, along with Tonks. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been, since she knew Mr and Mrs Weasley were members. Then they moved on to giving updates on Voldemort’s movements. A man Dumbledore referred to as ‘Howell’ talked about some odd happenings in Knockturn Alley while Tonks spoke of an attack in muggle London in an uncharacteristically serious tone. The next part really caught her attention, though.

_“And Severus? Any news?”_ Dumbledore’s worried voice came out of the ear.

_“I was Called three days ago. After managing to convince him of my continued loyalty to his cause,”_ here the sneer was evident in his tone, _“he sent me away with instructions to spy on the Light’s movements, as per usual.”_

The sound of Professor Snape’s smooth baritone, even with the crackling static of the Extendable Ear (she, Fred and George would have to look into that), brought an unconscious smile to her face.

Unbeknownst to her, this was witnessed by her brother and best friends. Not knowing what that meant, they shrugged it off and put it away. For now.

Meanwhile, Heather couldn’t believe that she hadn’t considered that the Professor could be a part of this Order. She knew that he was a spy for Dumbledore, so it was perfectly reasonable that he was in this group dedicated to taking down Voldemort. From his words, it seemed he was a double spy. It worried her that he was playing such a dangerous game (but of course it wasn’t a game at all). Well no wonder he was so skilled in mindmagic. She would be too if she had to conceal her real loyalties from a powerful, albeit slightly-deranged, wizard like Voldemort.

It also hammered it home how important it was for her to not give away how close they really were. His life was a stake here. Knowing that, however, didn’t lessen her reluctance to treat him, if not antagonistically, then coldly at school.

“Voldemort’s such an arse,” she couldn’t help but mutter irately.

The abruptness of her utterance must’ve been hilarious to the others, because they didn’t even flinch at the name and burst out in guffaws instead.

“That, Heather-harp, has-”

“-got to be the worst understatement-”

“of the century.” Both twins looked at her bemusedly, even as they tried to quell the twitching of their lips.

“Yeah, what they said. I mean, all those attacks on muggle villages and all you can come up with is _‘arse’_?” Rian asked in disbelief. Oh, she must’ve missed the part where they talked about that, lost in her thoughts as she had been.

“Looks like Heather needs a lesson in Grade O swearing, eh?” Ron said teasingly.

“Don’t you dare, Ronald.” Hermione stared at the boy, unimpressed.

Ginny waved her arms in a cutting motion. “Shh, guys! They’re still talking!”

The rest of the meeting discussed strategies for them to counter the Deatheater’s movements. Which was difficult, since they seemed completely random. The only thing in common was that there was a lot of destruction.

“It’s not fair at all! We should be in that meeting.” Hadrian grimaced, throwing his arms up in frustration.

The Weasley children all nodded. Ron said, “We’ve been fighting You-Know-Who since first year!”

Hermione huffed in exasperation. “Honestly, do you really think us children,” she ignored the twins’ protests at the word, “would be able to help to fight Dark wizards? We should just leave it to the adults to handle.” Heather was glad to see another voice of reason in the room.

“Hermione’s right. Dumbledore’s on it.” She glanced reprovingly at her brother.

Fred scoffed. “Oh puh-lease. Dumbledore makes-”

“-mistakes too!” George exclaimed readily. “We tricked him didn’t we?”

“Okay, of all people, I’m the _last_ to say Dumbledore’s infallible.” She and Hadrian were living proof of that. “I’m just saying that we should let the adults do the adult work. _They’re_ the fully qualified wizards and witches.”

“We’re graduating in a year!” twin protests sounded out.

Ron perked up. “Y’think you’ll join the Order then?”

Snorting, Ginny shook her head at the identical grins. “As if Mum’s going to let you two.”

“She let Bill and Charlie.”

“They’re older.”

Before this could descend into a full-blown argument, Heather tried to step in. “Hey, guys-”

“I’ve got it!” Hadrian exclaimed. Everyone turned to him, curious. “If we can’t join the Order, how about we create our own group?”

That was-

**“BRILLIANT!”**

-outrageous.

When everyone started discussing the new idea, Heather knew she would be fighting a losing battle. Even Hermione looked reluctantly convinced by the tentative idea to have training sessions to improve their duelling skills. The traitor.

Now they’d be having hare-brained ideas about fighting back Deatheaters. Her brother was trying to drive her absolutely mad with worry. Nevermind that Voldemort had a personal vendetta against him. Their opponents were capable to taking down skilled Aurors!

She resigned herself to joining this new group, if only to keep an eye on all of them. Merlin help her, she was surrounded by impulsive children!

~~~

“I guess the first thing we need is a name,” Hadrian announced. “Any suggestions?”

“The Order of the Gryffin?”

“Excuse me?” Heather gave an offended look to George who waved cheekily.

“Okay, no house-related names?” Hadrian said placatingly. “And not Order? Since that sounds too close to Dumbledore’s.”

“How about the Freedom Fighters?” Ginny offered.

Hermione shook her head. “That sounds too much like the rebellion rather than the defenders.”

“Hey, Defenders sounds pretty cool,” Ron said.

“The Defenders of Justice!” Fred intoned deeply, standing and striking a pose. They all laughed, but passed over the overly-dramatic name. Fred sat down, pouting. It seemed he had really taken a shine to it.

“Hey Heather,” Rian said, nudging her, “what do you think?”

She rolled her eyes. Were they really going to do this? “Defender’s Alliance,” she tossed out casually. The room stilled, thinking it over.

“That…doesn’t sound half-bad.”

“Kind of has-”

“-a nice ring.”

“It’s short and simple.”

“It’s really meaningful. Our aim is to defend innocents from You-Know Who, isn’t it?”

Hadrian beamed, sitting straighter. “Seems like we’re all in agreement. Defender’s Alliance, or even DA for short!”

Everyone gave their agreement and they huddled in a circle. Heather joined them, smiling slightly. Well, she might as well get into the spirit of things.

“Defender’s Alliance!” they cheered together.

Loud sounds from downstairs spurred them all into movement. The girls hurried back to their own room while the Fred and George quickly summoned the other end of the Extendable Ear and lay on their beds, feigning sleep. Sure enough, not ten minutes later, the Weasley matriarch checked in on all her children (yes, including Heather, Hadrian and Hermione). Fooled into thinking they were asleep, she left for her own bed.

What Mrs Weasley didn’t know was that they started up their discussions again, this time with a pair of Extendable Ear-Mouths (they were still working on the name). They talked about the newly-formed DA well into the night, only dropping off to sleep at an ungodly hour.

~~~

Molly clucked disapprovingly at the listless children. “Why are all of you so tired this morning?” Ginny was slumping towards her porridge, barely keeping her face out of it. Ron was so knackered he was eating _slowly_. Hermione had to put aside her book to put all her energy into eating. Even Fred and George, her hyperactive pranksters, were obediently tucking into the eggs without any shenanigans. The only children looking alert and well-rested were Hadrian and Heather.

“Good morning Mrs Weasley!” Hadrian greeted brightly.

“We were playing a vigorous muggle game called ‘Twister’ yesterday,” Heather lied smoothly. “It was pretty exhausting.”

Molly frowned but let it go. Perhaps she would spare them from the cleaning today. After some contemplation, she shook her head. There was nothing like some physical labour to wake young wizards and witches up.

“Well, eat up then! You’ll need the energy to tackle all the dust in this ramshackle place!” The protests were a symphony to her ears.

~~~

“How is it that you two are still so _perky_?” Ron grumbled. He dunked his dirty cloth into the murky water, grimacing.

“Heather and I don’t need much sleep,” Hadrian replied. He wondered if he could use magic to clean this all up. Just all the grime and dirt, of course. More delicate cleaning was always better done manually.

Hermione pursed her lips. “At our age, we should be getting at least 7 hours of sleep every night.”

Entering the room, Heather heard that comment and offered, “We’re used to getting about 4 hours, maybe less.” Looking around the drawing room, she shook her head and cast a wide-range _Scourgify._ It met resistance the first time, so she repeated it with more force. The dark miasma hanging about the place really needed to go. The younger three sighed in relief at the much cleaner room. “Don’t slack off now. The brass still needs polishing. I suppose the armchairs can’t be salvaged. We should ask Sirius about replacing them.”

Hermione looked aghast at the older witch’s casual words. “ _4 hours_! That’s nowhere near enough!”

Both Potter siblings shrugged. “We could barely stay awake at first, but we soon learnt.”

“But why-”

“Well,” Heather cut in, “I’ll leave it to you guys. You have magic; use it if you need. Hadrian, you know what works better by hand.” She quickly escaped the room to find the twins.

Instead of them, she found Sirius engrossed in clearing out the office. He was removing various artefacts from a safe underneath the desk which contained far more than its physical dimensions could hold. Bless wizard space. Or not, in this case.

She peered at the growing pile of objects inquisitively. Some just looked morbid, like the chattering skull, and was that a Hand of Glory? Others were priceless jewels that looked exquisite, but were stewing in Dark magic. Case in point: the gold locket at the corner there. Her instincts practically _screamed_ for her to get away from it. Fighting off the feeling, she walked over to inspect it.

A firm hand on her shoulder halted her movement. “Whoa, Heather. Better not. That thing’s bad news.”

She turned, shaking her head. “I wasn’t going to _touch_ it Sirius. I know better than that.”

“Still, I’d feel better knowing my little fawn isn’t anywhere near that. It’s as Dark as they come.”

She rolled her eyes. “It looks familiar, is all. I wanted to take a closer look. You can go back to doing whatever you were doing.”

“No can do, missy.” He tried to steer her away from the locket. “How about those cursed necklaces? Once you de-curse them, you can have them.”

“Sirius, I’ll go cleanse those things after I inspect the locket. Besides, you were thinking of selling all these off, weren’t you? You can’t just leave them cursed. That would be dangerous!” Seeing that he wasn’t at all convinced, she offered a compromise. “How about we take a look at it together?”

She could tell he wasn’t much appeased by this, but agreed knowing it was the best he’d be getting. “ _Had_ to just get their stubbornness too,” she could hear him mutter under his breath.

“No touching!”

She sighed and pointedly swished her wand to levitate the locket to the table. She did it quickly; her magic didn’t like the feel of it at all. The sooner they broke the curse, the better. No wonder the house felt like this, with all these objects in it.

“What do you know about cursebreaking?” Sirius asked.

“I’ve asked Bill about it some and I have a few books he lent me. I was thinking we should identify the type of curse it is first before researching how to break it. I really doubt that it’ll be a simple reversal like those trinkets over there,” she said, indicating the jewellery on the other table.

“Maybe we should save it for when Bill comes, then,” Sirius said nervously.

She smirked at her godfather. “And here I thought you were a Gryffindor,” she lilted, “Here I am, a Slytherin, willing to take the risk and there you are, chickening out.”

As expected, the needling made him puff up in indignation. “Fine then, go ahead!”

Her smirk widened. “Gladly.” She cast a few identification spells to discern the family of curses that was placed on the locket.

Deflating, Sirius pouted at her. “You just played me, didn’t you?”

“Slytherin,” was her only reply. Sirius was just too easy.

As she cycled through the different spells, she kept getting negative results. She frowned after the last spell gave her the same outcome. She had made sure to memorise the tests for all the families of curses, but had she missed one out after all? She recalled the spell at the beginning of the cursebreaking book she had read. She’d thought it redundant, since it was for checking whether there was a curse in the first place. This was definitely cursed…wasn’t it?

‘No harm trying,’ she thought to herself.

The spell glowed a dull red.

That…was not the reaction she had been expecting.

“There isn’t a curse on this,” she said, shocked.

“What do you mean?” Sirius demanded. “Sure it’s cursed. You feel that too right?”

_That_ , of course, referred to the thick darkness pouring out of it.

“Yes, but it’s not a curse!” she snapped, suddenly irritated. “Must be some other type of spell.” She bent down to look at it closer. It really did look awfully familiar. Where had she seen it before? The large serpentine S, the intricate gold chainlink. She paced around the room, frustrated.

“Knock it off, your pacing is making me nervous,” Sirius complained.

“Well, apologies Lord Black,” she retorted sarcastically.

“What’s your problem? You’re not usually this prissy!”

Heather stopped in her tracks, “I- you’re right. Sorry.” She shook her head roughly. Why had she gotten so annoyed? She usually had a cooler head than this. She gave a hard stare to the gold locket.

“I’m sorry too. I wasn’t exactly sunshine and rainbows either,” Sirius admitted.

“The darkness must be affecting us more than we thought.” That was the only reason she could come up with to explain why she was so irritable.

“Must be pretty serious shit then. I literally grew up around this stuff.” A baleful look stole across the wizard’s face before disappearing. “I’m mostly immune by now.”

“…Maybe we should ask Bill to look it over instead.” That was as close as she would get to admitting that she had gone in over her head.

Sirius, in a rare fit of self-preservation, very wisely refrained from saying any variant of ‘I told you so!’. “Yeah, we’ll just keep it safe in the meantime. Wouldn’t want anyone touching this nasty thing.”

After sealing the Locket (and yes, it deserved a capital now) into a conjured box, they went on to tackling all the other cursed objects. Although, Heather wasn’t quite sure what she would do with her new assortment of broaches, necklaces and earrings.

She didn’t even have pierced ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so there you have it! A DA with a different purpose! Hope you all like this change I made. I couldn't really see any of the children happily following Dumbledore's leadership anyway.
> 
> Feel free to drop by on tumblr as well to comment or give constructive criticism at this [link](https://lunarlooroo.tumblr.com/)!


	73. All that Glitters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Hope you enjoy the new chapter! Thanks as always to all of you for reading and any comments you may have left.

The redhead pushed the box away in resignation. “I can’t seem to get a good reading on it!”

Heather bit her lip in worry. “Are you sure, Bill? Not even the type of spell it is?” If a Master Cursebreaker didn’t know how to handle this, then what were they supposed to do?

“It’s not a hex or curse, that’s for sure. I don’t think a potion was used either. My guess is rituals or alchemy.”

Remus overheard the comment as he walked into the room. “Hey, what’s going on in here?” He looked confused. Understandable, given that the three people in the room were glowering at a gold locket in a glass case.

Once he had been caught up with the current situation, he offered to take a crack at it. Unfortunately, the resident Defence Master also had little to add.

“It’s not just magic in this. There’s something else. …Not sure what, though.” He looked apologetic at his meagre input. “I do have to say that it looks vaguely familiar.”

“You too?” Heather asked, “I just feel like this isn’t the first time I’ve seen it.” She just couldn’t pin it down, though. Bill and Sirius just shook their heads, having never seen it before.

“Bill, didn’t you say that alchemy might be involved? Why don’t we ask the Headmaster? He studied briefly with Nicholas Flamel, didn’t he?” Remus suggested.

It was a sound idea, and they all agreed. They would ask Dumbledore when he came here for the Order meeting in three days’ time.

~~~

The days continued to be spent cleaning and de-cursing. Heather was slightly put out that she couldn’t get her promised time in the library and lab, but it wasn’t like she’d be able to get much done with all the gloom hanging thick in the air.

They had realised early on that no matter how hard they cleaned, the house would be in its regular state of disrepair come morning. Bill had concluded that it was the dark miasma around the house that caused it. Hence why every free hand was recruited into the de-cursing crusade. She imagined she could feel the fog lighten ever so slightly with every curse broken.

“Remember, if there’s anything you kids can’t handle, just pass it over to me and Sirius, okay?” Remus instructed sternly. He always repeated this every time they started.

Everyone groaned at the still-huge and too-gradually depleting pile of things as they got to work.

“Sirius, you’ve lived here since you were cleared of charges. How come you haven’t bothered to do anything about this?” Hadrian moaned piteously.

The man shrugged as he flicked a basic _Finite_ at a walking stick. “The house has always been like this. I guess it just never occurred to me that I could change it. ‘Sides, I was preoccupied with my Mind Healer appointments,” he said, blasé.

They had been recommended to him by Remus, who worried about his mental state after so many years in Azkaban. He had to say, he’d been reluctant at first, but eventually he found them to be very helpful. He had since become stable enough to stop them, though.

“And you, Remus! You’ve been living here just as long. I might have expected _Sirius_ to neglect something like this, but _you’re_ the sensible one.”

“Hey!”

Ignoring Sirius, Remus smiled wryly. “I didn’t really think it was my place. I’m just a houseguest, after all.”

“Moony!” Sirius gasped. “You’re not a guest! You’re officially co-owner of this place, y’know? Signed the papers and everything!”

The werewolf shook his head immediately. “Sirius, you really shouldn’t-”

“Too bad,” Sirius sing-songed, “I already did!”

Cutting off any further protests from her pseudo-godfather, Heather said, “Hey, Sirius, I’ve been meaning to ask: what’s that hanging on the wall there?”

Sirius turned towards where she was pointing and snorted. “Oh, that? Just the family tapestry is all. Shows all the members of the Black family.”

“Like a family tree?” Hermione asked, never one to miss a chance to learn something new.

“Something like that. It’ll update itself every time someone dies, gets hitched or has a kid, too.”

The brunette witch’s eyes widened. “That must be _extremely_ extensive then. Don’t the Blacks date back _centuries_?”

“Ahh, I s’pose so,” the man said, shrugging, “I remember being forced to memorise the thing.” He made a disgusted face. “Who needs to know who the second cousin twice removed of the 9th Lord Black is?”

Putting her newly-curse-free lampshade down, Heather drifting over to the huge tapestry out of curiosity. She found Sirius’ name right at the end of it and traced the lines that came out of it. She lingered over _~~Regulus Arcturus Black~~_ , tactfully not saying anything. Sirius had never mentioned a brother before, but she could guess what the strike meant.

A few names in particular stood out to her. One Charlus Potter apparently married Dorea Potter née Black, who was Sirius’ great-aunt. Another branch showed Narcissa Malfoy née Black to be Sirius’ cousin. Huh.

“Did you know that we’re distantly related to Draco Malfoy, Rian?”

“What?!” Hadrian almost shot out of his seat on the floor, blinking in shock. Beside him, Ron made puking gestures while Hermione scowled at him in disapproval. (Heather was still waiting for the announcement on those two.)

She giggled and kept reading. She hadn’t been able to resist teasing him a bit about his little rivalry. Of course, Malfoy would probably call them bitter enemies rather than mere schoolyard rivals.

She couldn’t help noticing the recurring theme on the tapestry. Pollux, Cassiopeia, Cygnus, Sirius, Bellatrix, Regulus, Arcturus. So many of them were named after constellations.

“I’m sensing a theme here in the names,” she said.

The current Lord Black nodded absently. “Yeah, it’s a tradition to name children after stars and constellations. The first Blacks were astronomers or something.” He looked at her and Hadrian proudly. “I chose your middle names, you know.”

Heather felt her heart warm at the fact. Sirius may not be the epitome of an adult role model, but she knew he loved them and that was what counted. It wasn’t like she and Hadrian really needed to be taken care of, of this point. “Ahh, I wondered about Lyra and Leo. Seemed to come out of nowhere.”

“Well, I didn’t see myself having any children, so you two were likely going to be my only heirs. Seemed fitting you two had Black names too. A great middle finger to dear ol’ Mum. Hadrian is going to inherit the Black title from me, after all.”

“I am?” Hadrian looked bewildered. “That’s news to me. Aww man, I don’t know anything about this Lord stuff. Heather’s much better.”

Sirius ruffled Hadrian’s already-messy hair. “Sorry pup. Women can’t inherit the Black title. Even my mother was just Regent and not the Lady.” He sneered, “A more chauvinistic bunch you will never find.”

“Buck up, Rian. If _Sirius_ can do it, you’re more than capable.”

“Of cour- HEY!” Sirius pouted heavily. “I’m not that bad.”

Heather didn’t reply as she went back to work. She let the silence speak for itself. Well, as silent as a bunch of children trying to stifle their laughter could be, anyway.

~~~

“Okay, that’s _it_!” Heather exclaimed after a day or so of more de-cursing. Everyone in the room looked up at the abrupt cry. She stood, tossing the pillow she had just removed a Nightmare Hex from (why would anyone do that to their own family?) onto the floor. “I’m going to the lab.”

“No way!” “Unfair!”

“Why do _you_ get to go have fun while we slave away?”

She smiled smugly. “I’ve got to brew Wolfsbane Potion.” With that she flounced out of the room and made her way to the laboratory.

Fred and George cursed under their breaths. “Damnit! Why didn’t-”

“-we learn how to do it?”

The other children muttered their agreement.

Smiling mournfully, Hadrian pointed out, “You mean spend time being taught privately by Professor Snape?” All at once, their faces changed to one of horror, except Remus’, which bore contemplation.

“Err, never mind. Brewing potions isn’t much better than this anyway,” Ron said.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “You can’t even brew a Boil Cure right. You would kill yourself attempting the Wolfsbane Potion.”

Ron flushed a florid shade of red. “Not like _you_ know how! It’s crazy hard, innit?”

Remus cut in just as Hermione was going into a defensive tirade. Their bickering wouldn’t end otherwise. “How long has Heather been having private lessons with Severus?”

Fred rolled his eyes. “Oh, it’s been _ages_.”

“Since a few months into first year, we reckon.” George said, nodding.

“She _loves_ Wednesday evenings,” they chimed together.

Narrowing his eyes slightly, Remus asked, “He gives private lessons to all his Slytherins?”

“Nah, just Heather-”

“-as far as we know.”

Sirius made a face. “Why would she spend so much time with Sni- Snape _willingly_?” For all that they had an understanding from that time at Privet Drive, it was by no means a friendship.

Remus pursed his lips thoughtfully. Indeed. Why would she?

~~~

Heather hummed cheerily as she set up the workstation. It had been too long since she last brewed. Thankfully, the essence of Dark Arts had receded enough that it wouldn’t have any overt effects on her brewing. Otherwise, she might have to return to the Nest to brew the Wolfsbane instead. As it was, there was only just enough time to brew it before Remus had to ingest it. She couldn’t afford any mistakes.

As focussed as she was on grinding the moonstone, she didn’t take note of the opening and closing of the door behind her. Only when she had exactly an ounce of fine powder did she notice the other presence in the room. She tensed briefly before relaxing when she realised who it was.

“Hello Professor Snape,” she greeted without looking up. It was he who had taught her not to get distracted when brewing sensitive potions, after all.

There was a silent pause before he spoke up. “Wolfsbane Potion, Miss Potter?” She didn’t answer the rhetorical question, knowing that the Potions Master easily recognised the ingredients on the table. Her only reaction was the relaxing of her shoulders. She hadn’t realised how much she had missed hearing his low voice as she brewed. It had been a long time, what with their Occlumency lessons, then the total absence of their Wednesday sessions. It was…soothing. She laughed inwardly at the thought; other students would think her mad.

As she sliced the dandelion roots into paper-thin slices, she asked, “What brings you here today, sir?” She could hear him move away to set up the other worktable.

“The Headmaster _requested_ that I supply some necessary household potions in the event of any emergency.” The way he pronounced ‘requested’ made it clear that it was an order.

Heather frowned at that. Surely Professor Snape had much better things to do than brew simple things like Fever Reducer and Pepper-Up? He was a Potions Master, he definitely had his own research projects to tend to.

“If you don’t mind, could you pass me the list? I’ve been trying to brew a large range of potions to test out the algorithm I have for my runic potions index.” She made sure to frame it as a favour to her, knowing that he would be too proud otherwise. It wasn’t like she was lying. She _did_ need to further her own research.

“Ahh, yes. How are you faring with that?” She could hear the curiosity in his voice. It pleased her that he took her work seriously. She knew many other Masters would sneer at her efforts simply because she was just a student – and a witch, to boot. It was a sad reality that Wizarding Britain was still very misogynistic.

“I’ve made good progress,” she tried not to brag. She couldn’t help it, though. She was proud of her work so far. “I’ve crafted the equation that determines how many runes a potion can assimilate. I just need to try out more combinations to check if there are any exceptions.”

“Far be it from me to stand in the way of such an endeavour.” He then placed a piece of parchment on her benchtop, carefully away from any ingredients. “I would like to look over what you have accomplished thus far, if you are amenable.”

“Of course!” She pointed at her knapsack in the corner of the room. “Just help yourself. It’s in the black leather-bound journal.” Even though she was in a lull in the Wolfsbane brewing, she prepared the ingredients for the first potion on the list, Pepper-Up, instead of looking at her Professor. Despite her pride at her research, she now felt strange thinking about him reading it. A heart-pounding, cheeks-flushing, mouth-drying kind of strange. She chalked it up to nerves at having a pre-eminent Potions Master critiquing her work.

The silence stretched on as she waited for him to make a comment. It was silly, since he probably needed more time to read it over, but she still worried that the lack of words meant it was horrible. She wished that she could pause her brewing to look at his expression, but she didn’t really fancy causing an explosion.

He suddenly came into view, standing in front of her table and holding up a book. She noticed that it very much _wasn’t_ a black leather-bound journal. In fact, it was another _very_ familiar book he was holding.

“What is this?”

“That’s Jigger’s _Potions of the Modern World_ ,” she answered tentatively. She wasn’t sure why he was asking.

“Yes, yes,” he snapped impatiently. “Where did you get it?”

“At the secondhand bookstore in Diagon. The previous owner wrote lots of helpful comments in the margins. I have more books that belonged to him. Or her,” she added.

“How many of the Half-Blood Prince’s books do you own?” he demanded.

“Nine in total,” she said, bemused. Her eyes widened. “Why, do you know who this person is?”

Professor Snape raised brow. “Indeed, I do.”

Just then, her timer went off. She hurried to give five clockwise stirs to the Wolfsbane and then added the powdered moonstone. After checking that the Pepper-Up was also on track, she looked at the Professor again. “So, who is it?”

He merely smirked, flipping through the book.

Wait. What were the odds? Both amazingly good at Potions, both snarky bastards.

No, it couldn’t be… Could it? “ _You’re_ the Half-Blood Prince?”

“I had wondered where you learnt some of your techniques. It seems I finally have my answer.”

Dazedly, she chopped up the aconite. All this time, it had been him? “You know, you were one of my first friends,” she blurted out. She winced at the impulsive statement. “Sort of. I mean, the Prince was. But he’s you, so…” she trailed off helplessly. “The comments inside were really informative. I learnt more from those books than the actual ones on the book list,” she tacked on lamely. Right, way to go, Heather.

Once she summoned the courage to look at him again, she was treated to the rare sight of a completely gobsmacked Severus Snape. She bit her lip to stifle a giggle, but apparently wasn’t quick enough. He glared before huffing and turning away.

“This just proves how utterly hopeless the available textbooks are. It is a wonder how these imbeciles get published at all.”

That sounded so much like her Prince that she couldn’t believe how she hadn’t made the connection earlier. This explained _so much_.

“The Prince really helped me a lot, you know,” Heather continued fondly. “It’s very likely Hadrian and I would be dead without him.” At the alarmed look she got, she hurried to elaborate. “Oh, Petunia tried to poison us with aconite for a while,” she said, nodding at the roughly chopped flowers in front of her, “A spell in one of the books helped me to detect it.”

Severus seethed at the reminder of the attempted poisoning. Those filthy muggles deserved everything they had gotten and _more_. He preened inwardly at the fact that it was he who had, no matter how indirectly, protected her from that danger.

He never thought he would see his old schoolbooks again. Never in his wildest imaginings had he pictured coming upon them again after his mother had sold them so they had enough money to get by. Much less in Heather’s hands.

He had resented having to give up his precious books, especially with all the annotations he had written. Those were _his_ pieces of insight, akin to peeks into his own _soul_. There had been little choice at the time, though. He would hardly have been able to afford the following years’ books otherwise.

Knowing now that Heather had ended up being the new owner of his books was oddly satisfying. Of anyone he knew, she was the only one he would tolerate knowing so much of him. While she was physically only a 17-year-old, she much more mature than that, surely a product of all the things she had witnessed and experienced in her short life. When he looked at her, he saw not a child, but a trusted…well, _friend_ was not quite right, not quite _enough_ , but it would suffice.

Furthermore, if what she said about the Half-Blood Prince being a friend to her was true, then he was doubly glad for having let go of them all those years ago.

“Oh, did you know my very first Patronus was cast with memories of the Prince?” Heather added excitedly.

Oh. _Oh_. An uncharacteristic surge of embarrassment shot through him, leaving his cheeks warm and hands unsure. Surely, the alarming pounding of his heart was simply due to being caught off guard? Perhaps he was just too relaxed around Heather, to be feeling such strong emotions. His Occlumency shields usually prevented that from happening.

He cleared his throat to cover up his momentary lapse and strode back to his own workstation. Salazar be damned if he was caught blushing like a prepubescent Hufflepuff! “Glad to see that you made full use of the resources available to you.” He busied himself with the actual book containing Heather’s research.

“Oh, right! Did you want them back? They were originally yours, after all.” He could hear the reluctance in her voice, though he didn’t doubt her sincerity. However, much as they held some degree of sentimental value for him, she seemed to treasure them more than he ever had.

“Keep them if it pleases you. It is no concern of mine.”

She chuckled. “Thank you! I’ll take good care of them,” she said knowingly. Blast, he couldn’t even feign nonchalance without her seeing through him.

He didn’t reply, opting to instead occupy himself with Heather’s work notes. He occasionally walked over to watch her brew the runic potions, comparing what she was doing to the data he held. He would be more concerned about her experimenting on potions to be used in this household, but he trusted her know if the brew was dangerous to consume or not. Her brother was, after all, one of the potential drinkers of these potions. If there was anything he knew about Heather Potter, it was her overwhelming protectiveness of her brother.

According to her research, the main factors affecting how many runes, regardless of type, a potion could handle were: number of different ingredients, number of stirs and the length of brewing time. He could only imagine how many different types of potions she had to have brewed to come to this conclusion. Not to mention having to repeat them all a few times to ensure reliability of results.

He wondered how she had managed to find time for this on top of schoolwork, the Weasley twins’ shenanigans and worrying about her brother.

It was when Heather began bottling up the Wolfbane that he was forcibly reminded of his other commitments. He knew how long it took to brew and was surprised that he had spent so long reading Heather’s research. Standing, he placed the journal and the piece of parchment he had written some suggestions on back on the table.

“I shall be taking my leave now. I have a few comments written down. We may discuss them the next time we meet.” Muttering under his breath, he added, “Knowing Albus, that will be sooner than is necessary.”

Heather glanced over at the parchment, smiling. “Thanks for that! I’ll be sure to read them. The Half-Blood Prince has never led me wrong before!” she said cheekily.

Mouth twitching upwards, he nodded before heading for the door.

“Wait!”

He stopped in his tracks and turned around. Heather stood before him, hair coming out of her loose ponytail, robes dishevelled from her intense brewing. In other words, as beautiful as ever. He caught himself before his thoughts could wander further.

“I promised myself that when I found my Prince,” Wait, _her Prince_? “this I what I would do.” She looked straight at him, determination shining in her green eyes.

Then suddenly, she had her arms around him. His own were held stiffly at his sides, frozen in shock. Instinct soon took over, bringing them up to encircle her. Her shoulders relaxed and she _melted_ into the embrace. She fit nicely against him, petite enough that he could envelop her within the folds of his robes and shield her from the world.

When she eventually pulled away, he felt a profound sense of loss. It was disarming, how strongly he wanted to protest. He refrained, however. It was fortunate that not all his wits had been scrambled.

“Why are you so damned tall!” Heather grumbled, going on her tiptoes while beckoning him to bend lower. He automatically did as requested, still bewildered by the turn of events. It turned out that the hug would be the least of his worries, for he then felt the fleeting brush of satin over his cheek and heard a fervent whisper of, “ _Thank you, thank you, thank you!_ ” before she retreated, red staining her cheeks.

“Words cannot express everything you’ve done for me. The Prince has been a close confidant and treasured friend all these years. There were days when I was so down that nothing could cheer me up except reading one of your books. Especially in my first year when Hadrian wasn’t with me and my surly Potions Professor seemed to hate the very air I breathed,” she said, smiling cheekily as she added the last part. “Just, thank you. I won’t hold you up anymore. See you!”

His heart, the half-dead organ that it was, seemed almost full to bursting at the words. It was uncomfortable; he was not used to the feeling. Nodding awkwardly, he said his farewells and walked out.

Just before leaving, he recalled what had happened right before Heather’s little speech. What had he just done?

‘ _You were just kissed by a beautiful and remarkable witch_ ,’ a sly voice whispered in his head.

Oh dear Merlin. What had he just done _with his_ _student?_

‘ _For just one more year_ ,’ the same voice coaxed.

He banished the accursed voice behind thick Occlumency barriers as he apparated away.

~~~

Heather was oblivious to the several pairs of eyes trained on her. Smiling giddily, she clutched The Parchment closer and read it with an intensity heretofore unknown to man.

Leaning towards Fred (he was pretty sure it was him), Hadrian whispered, “Do you see what I’m seeing?”

Fred, eyes wide, nodded. “Whatever she was smoking-”

“-we want in,” George continued, slinging his arm over Hadrian on his other side.

“I know she likes potions, but I’ve never seen her so ecstatic after a brewing session.”

“Maybe it’s cuz it’s-”

“-been so long?”

Hadrian shook his head in exasperation. “My sister. The only person to get high, not on the fumes, but the brewing itself.”

Across from them, Ginny rolled her eyes and snapped her Quidditch Monthly magazine shut. “You boys are _hopeless_.” She looked over at the older witch, still cradling that piece of parchment like it was her firstborn. “She’s being so _obvious_ too. I didn’t really expect that of Heather.” Shrugging, she continued, “I guess she’s a teenaged witch too, even if she behaves like our mum.”

Ron ambled over to the huddled group, dragging Hermione over. “What are you talking about?” he demanded. They all turned quickly, shushing him. He settled down, chastised. “Why are you all whispering?” he asked, quieter.

“Heather,” they all replied.

“What about Heather?” Hermione asked, snapping her book shut. “Her crush?”

Ginny grinned triumphantly. “ _See?_ It’s sooo obvious.” She shared a look with Hermione. “ _Boys_ ,” they said together, shaking their heads.

Fred and George straightened, scowling. “Our little Heather-” Ginny slammed her hands over their mouths, peeking over at Heather. She was unaffected, deaf to the loud exclamation. Of course she was.

“-has a _crush_?” they hissed lowly.

“She’s so far gone she may as well be on Pluto,” Hermione stated, in the same tone she spouted Gamp’s Laws – indisputable, with no room for argument.

“Who’s the bastard that’s got-”

“-our Heather-harp in his evil clutches?”

“Whoever wrote that letter, obviously.”

Both twins stood to go over snatch- ahem, _borrow_ the parchment. Ginny and Hermione quickly grabbed onto their arms and dragged them back down.

Hermione glared at them. “Don’t you two _dare_.”

“Heather’s finally having her first crush. Let her enjoy it,” Ginny said, holding her wand up threateningly.

Pouting something fierce, Fred and George eased their struggles. Anyway, this wasn’t her first crush. They hadn’t forgotten about that Half-Blood Prince of hers. They didn’t bother to correct Ginny, though. Their sister’s Bat Bogey Hex was the stuff of nightmares.

Meanwhile, Hadrian was deep in thought. Maybe Cedric had been right about what he’d said in the train. About Heather being infatuated with someone. Ginny and Hermione certainly seemed to think so too. Well, if it was anything serious she would probably tell him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any of ya'll saw that coming? I thought about lots of ways it could have been revealed, but I finally settled for this because it came out of nowhere and surprised everyone (hopefully). I don't know if I portrayed their reactions well enough, but I hope you all like it!
> 
> How would YOU have liked the reveal to go? Leave a comment here or on tumblr at this [link](https://lunarlooroo.tumblr.com/)!


	74. Power of Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter for all you lovely people! Thanks for reading, especially those who left comments or kudos! Hope you enjoy.

When Dumbledore flooed in as they were finishing up dinner, Heather caught Sirius’ eye and gave him a significant look. He looked confused for a moment before his memory caught up with him. Nodding, he told her to bring Dumbledore to the Blue Room. It had recently been declared entirely curse-free, showing that the walls, which were previously thought to be a drab grey, were instead a nice shade of pastel blue. She mouthed a ‘later’ to the others when they shot her perplexed looks. She’d tell them about it later.

“Professor Dumbledore?”

He turned towards her, smiling his usual twinkly-eyed smile. “Yes, my dear?”

Heather rolled her eyes internally. “Could Sirius and I have a word with you please? We found a suspicious item while cleaning the house and would like to request that you take a look at it. Sirius has gone to get it.”

“Of course! I would be delighted to.” He gestured for her to lead the way. As they walked, he commented, “I find myself anticipating this artefact of yours. The Blacks had something of a reputation. I used to be quite the collector of odd knick-knacks myself.”

“Yes, your office has a lot of interesting objects, sir.”

“Oh, do you have a favourite? I am rather fond the remembrall which glows strobe lights. Much more eye-catching than the typical red smoke, do you not think?”

“Indeed, sir,” Heather said politely. She didn’t even know what Dumbledore had in that in his room. It was all just a messy pile of contraptions to her.

“Albus!” Sirius greeted when they entered the room. Remus was with him, holding the glass case with the locket. After the obligatory pleasantries, Sirius’ smile slid off his face, replaced with a solemn look. “We have this locket that just absolutely _reeks_ darkness, but even Bill couldn’t find out what was wrong with it.” He grimaced sheepishly. “I was thinking of just chucking it out, but Heather pointed out how dangerous that would be.”

The old wizard nodded sagely. “Yes, that would not have been the wisest decision. Could I have a closer look at it?”

Remus handed the box to him. “We thought it best not to touch it.” Dumbledore nodded distractedly, gaze fixed on the locket.

Heather watched with interest as he paled dramatically and clutched at the box tighter. Somehow, there was a bizarre mix of horror and excitement in his eyes. Abruptly, he flipped the box open and touched it. She could feel a huge clash of magic emanating from that single point of contact. She jerked forward, as if to stop him, but halted her steps. Of course, what did she know compared to the century-old wizard? If he thought it was fine to touch it, then who was she to stop him? The man nodded grimly to himself, withdrawing his hand and shutting the box up tightly. The oppressive magic lingered in the air, causing her to frown. And after they had finally cleared this room, too.

Dumbledore seemed to have aged a decade after his contact with the locket. His blue eyes were dimmed with exhaustion, his shoulders slumped over slightly.

“Would you like to take a seat, Headmaster?” Remus asked worriedly.

“No, that’s quite alright, my boy,” Dumbledore sighed. “Just a little drained. I know what this is. It doesn’t surprise me that none of you could figure it out. Fret not, I know how to destroy it.”

Heather’s eyebrows raised incredulously. Destroy it? Why not just remove whatever it was on the locket? It was probably a precious antique. “Is there no other way to neutralise it, sir?” She knew it sounded a little impudent to question his decision like that, but she was honestly curious.

“Unfortunately, Heather, such a spell _cannot_ be rid of unless the vessel is destroyed,” he answered mournfully. He looked at her, grief shining in his eyes. She shifted on the spot, unsettled by the depth of his emotion for what she believed was just a simple locket. It didn’t seem like they were just talking about the piece of jewellery anymore.

“So how are you going to get rid of it?” Sirius asked.

“It is notoriously difficult to destroy an item of such nature. However, I have narrowed down the possibilities to either using fiendfyre or basilisk venom.”

She blinked in shock. That seemed _extremely_ heavy-handed. Fiendfyre was uncontrollable and highly destructive while basilisk venom was the most potent of its kind in existence. Must be some spell to require such methods to be destroyed.

Remembering a Christmas present of hers from Hadrian, she enquired, “Would a basilisk fang suffice?”

The Headmaster looked at her curiously. “Yes, it would. Basilisk fangs are imbued with the venom as well.”

A sudden mischievous urge shot through her. Without any warning, she removed her necklace and whipped out her wand to unshrink the pendant on it. Holding it up – still-sheathed, of course – she presented it to Dumbledore with a guileless smile. “Here you go, sir.”

Sirius and Remus looked taken aback at the appearance of the gigantic, _lethal_ fang. “Where did you get _that_?” Sirius sputtered.

“Oh, Rian gave it to me for Christmas two years ago,” she said cheekily.

Remus sighed in consternation. “Yes, but how did he get a basilisk fang? Basilisks parts are horrendously expensive.”

“Didn’t you know? Hadrian killed a basilisk in his second year. Its carcass is still in the Chamber of Secrets.” She smiled brightly. “Which reminds me, I should ask him if I can harvest all those parts. Think of all the potions I could brew with them!” Antivenin being the top of that list. Since basilisk venom was the most potent venom in existence, its antivenin was like a venom panacea. With Voldemort around, that would probably come in helpful.

Dumbledore coughed lightly. In a strained voice, he suggested, “Perhaps it would be safer if Professor Snape accompanied you on this task.”

A thrill ran through her. Headmaster-sanctioned time with Professor Snape? Well, she would be a fool to reject it. Affecting indifference, she shrugged and agreed. “So, will you be destroying the necklace now, sir?”

“Yes, the sooner the better. I would ask you all to step out of the room for a bit. The backlash will be quite unpleasant.”

While Heather was reluctant, she knew Dumbledore wouldn’t budge on this. She, Sirius and Remus went out of the room, staring at the closed door anxiously. She was somewhat worried about the old man, seeing as he was still weakened by his earlier magical struggle with the locket, but he probably knew his own limits.

She was alarmed to feel waves of malicious magic seeping out of the room. If there was so much of it that it was overflowing, how thick must it be in the room? She could hear some kind of struggle in there, the sounds of chairs overturning and things falling from the table. Fortunately, the door opened within minutes to reveal a haggard but victorious Headmaster Dumbledore.

“It is done,” he stated tiredly. He returned the sheathed basilisk fang to Heather, who immediately shrunk it and put the necklace on again. “It was fortunate that you came to me regarding this matter. Who knows what trouble the locket could have caused otherwise. I apologise for the mess; it was being quite stubborn.” He shifted so that they could all look into the room. ‘Mess’ was a gross understatement. It looked like a tornado had blown through the room. The curtains had been ripped from the hangings, chairs toppled over and at the eye of it, a fractured locket hanging open limply.

Remus was quick to reassure Dumbledore that the mess was of no consequence. “Don’t worry, it’s just a few spells to put the room to rights, Headmaster.”

The old wizard nodded. “As you say.” Chuckling a tad weakly, he continued, “I believe I will be heading downstairs for one of Molly’s biscuits. I’m not as young as I used to be!” He turned to retrieve the remnants of the gold locket, but something made Heather speak up.

“Headmaster Dumbledore, if it’s alright, could I keep that? It’s not dangerous anymore, right?” She was surprised at herself. The thing was little more than a misshapen lump of gold at that point. It certainly had no use to her. Still, she felt like she should hold on to it.

The man gave her a searching look through narrowed eyes. She plastered on a neutral expression, shoring up her Occlumency barriers. After a drawn-out moment, he murmured, “Yes, that does seem fitting.” He handed the broken locket to her and left.

Heather pursed her lips in frustration. That damnably cryptic old coot!

~~~

While the grown-ups congregated downstairs in one of the studies for a little ‘chat’, the younger bunch were once again gathered in the boys’ room. Heather looked around the room. Ginny, bouncing in her seat excitedly. Hermione and Ron, at loggerheads as usual. Hadrian, trying to stay out of it. Gred and Forge, having one of their psychic conversations. She sighed, wondering if they were being ridiculous about setting up another group to oppose Voldemort. One comprising mostly children, for Morgana’s sake!

Rian cleared his throat, garnering the attention of everyone in the room. “Hey there guys. Welcome to our very first official DA meeting!” Cheers and clapping could be heard. Thank goodness she’d had the foresight to set up privacy and silencing barriers first. “Okay, first order,” the twins chuckled at the unintended pun, “of business. We should establish what we want to do with the group.”

“Shouldn’t we elect the leader first?” Hermione suggested when a pause ensued. “Someone who can keep us on the right track and lead the discussions.”

Hadrian snapped his fingers. “That’s right! Makes sense. So who should be the leader?”

One by one, everyone turned and looked at him consideringly. Heather smiled wickedly and raised her hand. “All in favour of Hadrian as our leader, say aye!”

As one, six voices rang out, “Aye!”

“All against, say nay!”

The silence spoke volumes.

“Well, looks like we have the new leader of the Defender’s Alliance!” She winked at her brother, who was smiling bashfully.

He cleared his throat and straightened his spine. “Thanks for putting your confidence in me. I’ll do my best as leader, but this operation will require everyone’s contribution.”

“So what exactly is this ‘operation’ anyway? What exactly will the DA be doing?” Ginny asked. She took the words right out of Heather’s mouth.

“Precisely. We’re supposed to be opposing Voldemort,” Heather ignored their shudders, “but we can’t exactly spy on his movements or drive him off at raids. We’re still Hogwarts students,” she pointed out.

Ron frowned thoughtfully. “Let’s face it. Snakeface isn’t going to care that we’re kids. At one point, he’ll probably try to attack Hogwarts, or even Hogsmeade. Strategically-speaking, Hogwarts will be very beneficial for him to take over. With most of Britain’s wizarding children as his hostages, it’ll be a cinch threatening the Ministry to obey his orders.”

They all stared at him. This coming from Ron Weasley. Mr-does-homework-two-hours-before-it’s-due and King of Laziness. Heather looked at him with a tiny glimmer of respect. Who knew the boy had it in him.

“What? I have a brain too you know!” he blustered under the weight of all their stares.

Hadrian nodded, grinning. “Ron’s right. Since we aren’t in a position to actively work against Voldemort, what we need to do is prepare ourselves for when he decides to attack.”

“So our job is to train to protect-”

“-Hogwarts from his Snakeyness’ evil clutches?”

“Seven students won’t be able to fend off an army of Deatheaters!” Hermione protested.

Heather nodded in agreement. “But we could send out feelers amongst our classmates to see who would be willing to join us.” While she wasn’t best pleased with the idea of training children for war, they didn’t have much choice if Voldemort decided to storm the castle. Which was highly possible, as Ron had pointed out.

“You mean we should bring other people in?” Hermione asked.

“Luna and Neville would probably agree,” Ginny said after a pause. Ron snorted at the idea of Loony Lovegood and timid little Neville joining. His sister glared at him, causing him to raise his arms in a gesture of surrender.

“I-I suppose Dean and Seamus would be game too,” he offered quickly.

“Don’t forget Lee!” Fred and George added.

“Cedric and his friends too,” Hadrian said. While the rest of the people in the room gave him knowing looks, Ron wrinkled his brow.

“Why Pretty Boy Diggory? I get that you two were in the tournament together, but it’s over now. And ‘sides, he’s graduated Hogwarts hasn’t he?”

Heather groaned at the cluelessness of the boy. Sure, Hadrian and Cedric hadn’t announced anything, but they were so _obvious_. To those who knew them well, at least. And Ron was one of Rian’s best friends.

“Ron,” Hermione said slowly, “Hadrian and Cedric are _dating_.” She waited patiently as his face cycled through confusion, disbelief and shock before finally landing on ‘I’m-going-to-put-my-foot-in-my-mouth’.

“Blimey, Hadrian, you’re a poofter?”

Fred, George and Ginny each socked him in the arm. The youngest among them sighed. “Sorry about him. I hear Mum dropped him all the time when we were kids.”

“Must’ve been because of-”

“-all the explosions we caused!”

“Hey, ow!” Ron exclaimed, “I didn’t mean it like _that_!” He looked beseechingly at Hadrian. “Just surprised was all, mate. S’long as you don’t give me any details, we’re cool.”

“Wait!” Hadrian yelled. He waved his arms around frantically. “How did all of you know? We were trying to keep it under wraps! Only Heather had a hint of what was going on.”

Bursting into laughter, Heather said, “A _hint_? I set you two up! Neither of you would have taken the first step without me running interference. Also, you were hardly subtle. You two couldn’t walk past each other without a sigh of longing.” Her brother blinked in bewilderment. “Hadrian,” she said, “we all knew. The only reason the school at large doesn’t is because the world is filled with fools.”

“Oblivious-” George chimed in.

“-unobservant-” Fred added.

“-fools!” Ginny said with relish.

With every insult, Ron winced a little. “Oops, no offence Ron,” the boy’s sister stated cheerily.

Chuckling, Heather went back to the topic at hand. “Anyway, moving on, I know some Slytherins who might be interested. No, Ron,” she said, cutting the boy off before he could say anything, “not all Slytherins support Voldemort. Shocking, isn’t it?” He sat back down, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Not that I’m saying anything against the Slytherins,” Hermione began, holding a hand up, “but perhaps we should have some way to ensure none of the members divulge anything. By accident or otherwise.”

Heather tapped her chin thoughtfully. Hermione made a good point. All it took for the secret to be spilt was a careless word or a well-timed _Legilimens_. “I could try to research a way to keep everyone silent. I’m pretty sure there are magical contracts we could draw up for this.”

“Okay! Maybe we can have everyone be in charge of something, so that if we know who to go to for any given issue. For example,” Hadrian smirked, “Heather can be Head of Research.”

While everyone nodded, Heather shook her head. “What about Hermione? Wouldn’t she be the obvious choice?”

“You’re the one with a permanent pass to the Restricted Section. I think you would do a better job,” Hermione demurred. Heather shrugged and accepted, seeing that Hermione was truly fine with it.

They continued to divvy out roles. Hermione ended up being the Secretary, whose job was to keep records of their activities and keep the group organised and efficient. Fred and George claimed the position of Logistics Heads, eager to supply them all with cool inventions and gadgets. Unsurprisingly, Ron was the Head of Strategy and was tasked with coming up with battle plans and defensive tactics. After further discussion, Ginny was assigned Head of Outreach, since she had a more neutral stance than the rest of them and was generally well-liked by all the houses. Hadrian also doubled as Head of Training, being the one most avid about duelling and DADA.

They continued to flesh out their plans. The DA was more than just a spur of the moment idea now. It was becoming reality. Heather retracted her statement about them being mere children. These were wizards and witches who had stood up to Voldemort and survived.

Seven founding members of the Defender’s Alliance. A good, strong number. The most magical of them all. She smiled a little at the coincidence. (Though privately she thought that perhaps it was Fate working its threads.)

Voldemort had better watch out.

~~~

“Heather, you in there?”

Hand jerking slightly at the interruption, Heather breathed a sigh of relief when none of the flobberworm mucus she had been holding dripped into the cauldron. An extra drop would have rendered the Murtlap Essence unstable. Perhaps she should have put a sign outside the lab to prevent this from occurring.

“What is it Rian?” she asked distractedly, making three and a half counter-clockwise turns. There, now she just had to let it simmer for two minutes before adding the pickled murtlap tentacles and adding her rune of choice.

Hadrian walked into the lab. Upon seeing the bubbling cauldron, he frowned guiltily. “Sorry, did I disturb you? I know you hate that.”

“It’s fine. Lucky for you, this is just a simple potion. If it had been the Wolfsbane you interrupted, I might have accidentally caused an explosion. So why were you looking for me? Bored now that we finished cleaning the house?” She made a show of glancing over at the dirty cauldrons in the sink.  “I’m sure I can find _something_ for you to do.”

Holding up his hands, her brother shook his head quickly. “No, that’s alright. You remember me asking about animagic a few months ago?”

She nodded. He had been quite interested in learning it, as she recalled. She had suggested he owl Sirius, for obvious reasons. “Oh, yeah. How are you doing with that? Did you start learning?”

“Nah. With the tournament and all that, I didn’t have much time. I just remembered my plans to start the process during the summer.”

“That’s great!” she enthused as she dropped six slices of murtlap tentacle into the potion. “So did you need my help for something? I’m afraid I don’t know much about how to become an animagus,” she admitted. She had been quite intrigued about it a few years back, but other things had come up, taking up all of her free time. Her Runic Potions project, for one. Speaking of which, she quickly sketched out the rune _Jera_ with magic, channelling the feeling of peace. Since the rune had several meanings she needed to guide it using her intent.

“Oh no. I know how to become one. Sirius told me. First, I have to keep a mandrake leaf in my mouth for a month starting the night of a full moon then use it to brew a potion. I wanted to ask if you had any mandrake leaves and if you could help with the potion? I would try it myself, but it seems pretty complicated.”

After taking the cauldron off the fire, she held her hand out to ask for the animagus potion recipe. It was quite tricky, but nothing on Veritaserum or Wolfsbane. “Yeah, I can do this.”

Eyes shining excitedly, Hadrian said, “So I can begin the process today? Being an animagus will be amazing! I’d be able to sneak around without anyone knowing!” It amused Heather to no end that he didn’t even consider the Animagus Registry. Clearly he was a Marauder’s son through and through. “Especially if I have to make a quick escape because I was trapped by Voldemort or something. You sure you have enough ingredients?”

She smiled at his eager expression. “More than. Enough even for you and the rest of the DA to make a potion,” she teased. At her comment, her brother tilted his head and regarded her consideringly.

“You know, that’s not a bad idea…”

Confused, she asked, “What is?” She ran through the previous words in her head. “You don’t mean…”

“The whole DA should learn the animagus transformation!” He started pacing and gesturing wildly as his excitement level rose. “Think about it. It would be really useful to get out of tight situations, or to spy on people!” He clapped his hands. “And we’d be like the second generation of Marauders! Except the pranking thing. Let’s leave that to the twins.” Pivoting on his heel to give her a wide-eyed stare, he pled, “Isn’t that a _wonderful_ idea?”

She sighed, already won over by his enthusiasm. “You’re the Head of Training. You convince the others. I’m game if they are.”

He had already run out of the lab before she finished speaking. Shaking her head, she started ladling her finished potion into phials. She would need to tidy up and get the mandrake leaves out before the others joined her in here. She didn’t doubt her brother’s skills of persuasion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Heather learns how to destroy a horcrux, even if she doesn't even know what it is yet. Dumbles being cryptic as usual. If you're wondering where Kreacher is in all this, Sirius has ordered him to stay away unless called for specifically.
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](https://lunarlooroo.tumblr.com/).


	75. The Pink Toad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for your continued support! I've been pretty busy lately, so I might have change my posting schedule. I'll let you guys know in advance though!
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy the chapter!

“This sucks,” Ginny proclaimed, with a barely-there lisp, as she threw herself across an empty couch.

Fred and George slumped into the room, grimacing.

“We could make _so_ many oral fixation jokes-”

“-with that opening, but we concur.”

Hermione sighed. “It’s not _that_ bad. Just keep it rolled under your tongue and you can barely feel it. Just make sure not to accidentally swallow it in your sleep.”

“You can use a Sticking Charm to keep it in place, you know,” Hadrian pointed out matter-of-factly.

Groaning, Ron thumped his friend not-so-gently on the back. “Aww, mate, why didn’t you tell us that two weeks ago?”

“You’d think that being raised around magic would make them smarter about using it,” Heather muttered in amusement, sharing a look with Hermione.  She had actually been waiting to see when they would eventually cotton on. Evidently, Hadrian was too sympathetic to hold out on them. The little Gryffindor.

“Has it only been two weeks? Feels like longer,” Ginny groused. She quickly did as Hermione and Hadrian suggested, relieved that it really was much easier.

“Who’s the hack who came up with this anyway?” Ron complained. “Why would keeping a stupid leaf in your mouth even help with transforming into an animal?”

“Well, the mandrake leaf is easy enough to explain,” Hermione began in her ‘lecturing’ tone. “Mandragora are plants which exhibit human-like characteristics – a transition-state between human and non-human, if you will. Which is exactly the principle underlying the animagus transformation.”

“I’m sorry I asked,” Ron muttered lowly.

Heather took no notice of the boy, picking up where Hermione left off. “Exactly! As for holding it in our mouths, it is likely due to the highly personal and unique mature of the transformation,” she postulated, “The leaf will soak up our personal magicks, which will then be transferred to the potion. It can’t just be held in our hands for a month, because it might be tainted by ambient magic. I suspect holding it an any other bodily orifice might suffice as well. It’s just that our mouths are the most convenient.”

At that, the whole room looked at her, looks of disgust on their faces. Well, except Hermione, who appeared fascinated. Heather blinked, unfazed. “Just a theory, is all.”

George shook his head in disbelief. “Don’t know how you say stuff-”

“-like that with a straight face.” Fred looked kind of pale, likely imagining what _‘other bodily orifice’_ the leaf might be kept in.

“That _very_ intriguing topic of discussion aside,” Hadrian said loudly, “how about we get on with it? We only have three more weeks to finish all our homework.”

A chorus of groans sounded out at that pronouncement. Ron glared heatedly at his schoolbooks. “Did you have to remind me? I haven’t even started!”

“Ronald!” Hermione cried out, scandalised. “You’re never going to have time for your second rewrite at this rate! I’d better draw up a schedule so you have time for at least the first,” she fretted anxiously.

Heather patted her shoulder in commiseration. She had been in a similar situation two years ago. Getting FredGeorge to do any work had been nigh impossible. Thank Circe they had gotten better since their deal about getting good grades for the joke shop. Though they were hardly model students, they understood the merits of academics results better now.

However, she couldn’t help but feel that two rewrites was excessive, even for her.

~~~

Heather had never seen them so excited about potions before. Granted, it was just a means to an end in this case, but still. She was pretty pumped up herself. She had never tried brewing with four cauldrons simultaneously before, but she was eager to try.

Since they needed seven batches of individual potion, she was doing them in batches of four, then three. She had Fred, George, Hermione and Hadrian helping her prepare the ingredients, but she would be doing the actual brewing. Not that they weren’t good brewers, but some of the little nuances in this particular potion weren’t exactly student-level. She only knew some of these things because of her Wednesday sessions. She once again pondered how her father and his friends had managed it. As far as she knew, none of the Marauders had been particularly skilled brewers.

Not wanting to leave anyone out, she had delegated Ron and Ginny to cleaning duty. Thankfully, they hadn’t taken offence at the ‘less important’ job, knowing their potion skills weren’t quite up to it. Though they grumbled a bit about having to scrub cauldrons.

After an intensive six-hour-long brewing session, Heather finally took a step back from the benchtop. Sat on it was a row of seven phials, each neatly labelled with their names. She gave herself a mental pat on the back and wiped off the sweat on her forehead. That had been pretty exhausting.

Lastly, one final step that needed each person to add the mandrake leaf and a few other things to their own phials under the light of a full moon, then the potions were finally done. Thank goodness it was a clear night, or else they’d have to try again next month.

Turning around, she thanked the others for their help. She doubted she could have managed the first batch without them. It seemed three was the most she could cope with at the moment. She thought about the ease with which Professor Snape handled five, even _six_ , cauldrons – and with different potions too! She wanted to do that too.

“You know, Heather, you look similar to Professor Snape when you brew,” Hermione said astutely. Heather flushed lightly at the praise. “That same grace and economy of movement.”

“Thanks,” she said happily. “He’s our teacher, after all. I must have unconsciously picked it up through watching him brew so much.”

The other witch looked at her curiously. “Do you see him brew often? He doesn’t demonstrate much in our classes. Is it different for the NEWT class?”

“Nah, the old bat-” Heather frowned at Fred for the epithet he used.

“-is the same in all his classes.”

“Heather gets _special treatment_ , is all.”

“What Gred and Forge _mean_ , is,” Heather cut in, “that I used to have a few private lessons with Professor Snape. It’s how I learnt how to brew Wolfsbane and such.”

Hermione’s eyes lit up. “You mean like an app-”

“Yeah, yeah, Potions are great! So when can we drink it?” Ron interrupted. Hermione swivelled around to berate him, but Hadrian cut her to the punch.

“Not yet. We have to drink it when a lightning storm starts. Until then, though, we have to recite an incantation while pointing our wandtips over our hearts every sunrise and sundown starting now. The phrase is _Amato Animo Animato Animagus._ ”

“What?” Ron whined. “I got so excited for nothing! Who knows when the next storm will be?”

“Oh suck it up Ron,” Ginny retorted. “If it was so easy, everyone would be an animagus.”

“We’ll just have to wait patiently for it,” Hadrian stated logically. “Meanwhile, the potions have to sit in a dark place undisturbed, so put them in your trunks immediately. The stability charms in them should do the trick.”

Heather was glad she had thought to use the unbreakable phials. They might have a long wait ahead of them.

She wondered if any of them realised yet that this meant they would have to wake before sunrise every day to do the incantation until a lightning storm occurred.

~~~

Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was as lively as ever on the morning of September 1. Sirius, Remus and the Weasleys had come to see them off for the school year.

The back of Heather’s neck itched uncomfortably, feeling the burning gazes of the passers-by. She knew that they were mostly staring at her brother, who had been mentioned in a few articles in the Prophet over the summer. It turned out that the Ministry did not take kindly to claims of Voldemort returning. They hadn’t dared to go so far as a smear campaign, though, fearing backlash from both the Houses of Potter and Black. Though she doubted that if Skeeter were still around that would be the case. If it wasn’t so uncouth to speak ill of the dead, Heather would have called her a brazen, underhanded pest, if only in the privacy of her own mind.

“Before you two go,” Sirius said, pulling away from the tight hug he had given them, “I want you to have this.” He handed over a brown medium-sized package. “You can use this to communicate with me anytime. Beats using owls, eh?” he said, winking. “Don’t be strangers now! I expect regular chats with my two favourite godchildren!”

Hadrian laughed, accepting the gift. “We’re your only godchildren.”

“Only Papa was foolish enough to make you a guardian of impressionable young children,” Heather added slyly. “I, for one, know Mama wanted Remus.”

“Lily always was the wiser of the two,” Remus quipped.

Sirius stomped his foot, like an actual child. “You all always gang up on me,” he whined.

“There there Padfoot. We’re only teasing. Only an awesome godfather would give his goddaughter those precious books.”

He shrugged, mood switching abruptly. “You could have them all, you know. Not like _I’m_ going to need them. I haven’t stepped foot in the Black Library since I was 10!”

“I brought more than enough to last me the whole year. Don’t think I don’t want the other books, because I’m not done yet.”

“Did you really have to go and give her _more_?” Hadrian exclaimed. “She hardly gets out as it is!”

Heather ruffled her brother’s messy hair. “Aww, don’t worry Rian. I can still give you a good duel.”

Just then, the train gave a loud whistle, signalling it was time to get on. With one last hug, they bade each other farewell.

Heather admitted that it had been nice spending more time with their godfathers. She felt a little bad for being slightly distant from them before this. She had always declined Sirius’ invitations to stay over before. Neither of them had even been to the Nest before!

It wasn’t even their faults for not being there while she and Hadrian were growing up. Remus had his furry little problem and Sirius had been wrongfully imprisoned. She knew they had felt horribly guilty once they found out about the Dursleys’ not-so-wholesome childrearing tactics.

Perhaps she and Hadrian could invite them over next summer.

~~~

The witch standing at the Head Table had on a sickeningly saccharine smile that was rivalled only by her garishly pink frock. Now, normally Heather was not so uncharitable to people she had just met, but something about this woman brought it out in her. And her instincts rarely led her wrong.

What was worse was the fact she was someone from the Ministry. Heather had long learnt that any interference from the Ministry led to nothing good. It couldn’t be a coincidence that they had decided to appoint someone in Hogwarts after Voldemort’s resurrection – which they were still denying.

She could tell that the other Professors weren’t happy about Dolores Umbridge either, if the looks of disdain were anything to go by. Had she really just interrupted the Headmaster’s opening speech? Heather was hardly one to idolise the man, but even she had never been so obviously disrespectful of him in front of a crowd.

Umbridge was clearly not here to make any friends. Make trouble, more like.

On another note, was that _Cedric_ she saw sitting at the Head Table?

~~~

After just the first day of classes, Heather began wondering if she could drop DADA. She was pretty sure Professor Snape would let her, if they were allowed to be friendly with other. As it was, he barely acknowledged her. And even when he did, it was to sneer at her during Slytherin’s start-of-year speech.

Back to Umbridge, she was worse than what she had imagined. First of all, the textbook she had chosen was utter rubbish. If she wanted to be theoretical, at the very least teach the _correct_ theory. Not this drivel that had somehow passed the editing checks of a questionable publishing company. Second, the way she had corrected Heather in class about Goshawk’s First Law had been severely insulting to her intelligence. It was clear the woman knew nothing about her subject content, because it was _obvious_ that you couldn’t use _Rennervate_ on someone dosed with Draught of Living Death. Lastly, she’d heard that the _bitch_ had honed in on her baby brother the moment he walked into the classroom. _No one_ messed with Rian.

He even had detention with her the next few nights. It was totally uncalled for! If Umbridge touched a single hair on her brother’s head, Heather would personally make sure she lost her job. And a limb, if she could help it.

Well, at least her brother wasn’t too hung up about it. Not when his darling was in Hogwarts too. It had been as much a surprise to Hadrian as herself when Cedric was announced as Professor McGonagall’s apprentice. She had thought he would pursue a career in Quidditch or the Ministry, but she supposed she didn’t really know him that well.

Anyway, if this was to be the quality of Defence lessons this year, the DA would have to begin regular training soon. Heather had to finish up that secrecy contract before one of them accidentally spilled the beans. The Black Library had truly been a goldmine of information.

~~~

“U-um, Miss Potter?” a timid voice asked.

Heather turned around, bemused. No one who called her that would use such a hesitant tone. She imagined Professor Snape saying _anything_ meekly and almost snorted aloud. Looking down – and she was surprised at having to do so – she saw a little gaggle of Slytherin first years huddled behind who must have been their ringleader. She vaguely remembered them from the first ‘welcome’ night.

“Farley, was it? And Bole, Siles, Higgs and Warrington. How may I help you?”

Bella Farley shifted on the spot, trying to keep a plain expression. It was adorable how these little snakes hadn’t learnt how to keep their composure yet. Heather smiled encouragingly at them. Rather than little snakelings, she couldn’t help but see them as little ducklings.

“C-could we borrow some sort of healing potion? One of the Prefects told us we could come to you if we needed help.”

Okay, first, which Prefect said _that_? Was it because she somehow always adopted the firsties into her tutoring group? Well, she could admit that she had a teensy soft spot for children and couldn’t resist them if they asked for help.

Second, why on earth would they need a healing potion? “Are any of you injured? Would you like me look you over?” she asked worriedly.

They all shook their heads rapidly, almost in sync. It made for quite a sight. A boy, Siles, she believed, mumbled, “No, some of us just tripped over one of the trick stairs and nicked ourselves on the banister. Could you give us something for our cuts please?”

“Something that would heal a scar?” Farley added hesitantly.

Suspicion bloomed in her mind, even as she chuckled teasingly. “Remember to look through the instructions in the common room on how to navigate the trick stairs.” She noticed they all relaxed minutely at her act. Tripping on the stairs wouldn’t produce any cuts, just abrasions and bruises. The banisters were charmed to prevent that, even though they looked knife-sharp. Nevertheless, she knew if she tried to pry, they would clam up and refuse to come to her for help again.

“Here,” she reached into her bottomless knapsack (she needed to be well-prepared, with the kind of people she hung out with), “I have just the thing. Murtlap Essence. Just dab some on your cuts before bed and leave it overnight. It should heal without any scarring.” Sharp eyes noted the way they sighed in relief. “It may take several applications depending on how severe the injury is,” she added purposely.

“M-miss Potter-”

“Just call me Heather,” she insisted gently.

The boy, Warrington, nodded. “Heather, don’t we need to soak our injuries in Murtlap Essence for at least half an hour for it to work? My mum had me use it once.”

“This is a special formulation I made. Not as bothersome as the original one, right?” She smiled indulgently when they stared at her wide-eyed and awed. Ahh, all that youth and bright-eyed innocence. “I’ll give each of you a phial, okay? Just in case. Don’t worry, I made lots.”

They each took one with careful hands, giving her shy smiles. She resisted the urge to coo at them. Looking each of them in the eye, she said seriously, “If any of you need any help at all, just ask me, okay? If you’re injured, need more potions, someone is bullying you, or even if you need help with homework. Tell the rest of your friends, too.” She waited till they all nodded before beaming. “Good! Now come on, dinner will start soon.”

She herded the little ducklings – err, first years towards the Great Hall, noting to herself to keep an eye on them.

~~~

After that, the first year Slytherins seemed to grow attached to her. It reminded her of how newly-hatched ducklings imprinted on the first creature they saw. The five firsties she had helped were now joined by the other three in their batch. Ramone Rowle had been understandably cautious at first, given what Heather had done to his cousin, Rhianna Rowle, in her first year. He had warmed up eventually, though. They all had.

Gred and Forge teased her endlessly about her mother-hen tendencies. (A gasp. “What if that’s what your animagus form turns out to be?” Loud guffaws.) Even some of the older Slytherins looked on in amusement. Daphne, in particular, found the entire thing ‘utterly precious’.

Of course, Heather was more than willing to play big sister to them. What concerned her, though, were the increased requests for healing potions she had gotten from, not only the first years, but a few second and third years as well. She sensed that they were not quite ready to open up about it, so she let it be. But if she increased her lookout for whoever was targeting her Slyths, then no one was the wiser.

Honestly, though, between worrying for her adopted ducklings and her own brother, she wondered how she managed anything else at all. Ever since Umbridge had been appointed so-called _Head Inquisitor_ – a made-up post specifically designed for the Ministry to gain more control over Hogwarts – she had become even more insufferable. Now, she literally had the power to dictate everything that went on in the school.

And her dear Hadrian just couldn’t take that lying down. She blamed those Gryff tendencies he had. While most people had just resigned themselves to being the perfect little doormats Umbridge wanted, Rian just had to be the one to rebel against her. And that was really racking up the number of detentions he gained.

He was making it _so_ difficult for Heather to arrange a time for all of the DA to meet! She loved her brother, she really did, but he needed to learn how to pick his battles. She could tell that all those detentions were draining him. He looked paler, more sluggish than usual. It was likely that all that time spent in detention was eating into his time for schoolwork, coming up with DA training plans and Quidditch. She had even noticed Cedric shooting him worried glances at meals.

“Heather!”

She snapped out of her thoughts at the sound of her name. “Oh, hello Hermione. On the way to the library?”

“Oh, I was actually looking for you.” The younger witch grimaced, shifting uncomfortably.

Heather instantly grew concerned. It was rare for Hermione to seek help from her like this. For all her Ravenclaw characteristics, she was a Gryff, through and through. The stubbornness came with the territory. “What is it? Are you okay?”

“It’s H-” she cut herself off abruptly. Hermione seemed to have an internal struggle, opening and closing her mouth before she could speak further. She appeared to finally come to a decision, forcing a stiff smile. “Would you happen to have any Blood-Replenishing Potion?” Heather’s eyes widened in alarm. “No one’s injured!” Hermione exclaimed, hands fluttering nervously. “It’s just _that time of the month_ ,” she whispered, “and my flow has been heavier than usual. I’m feeling a bit, err, faint, so I was hoping the potion could help that.”

Alarm bells rang in Heather’s mind, though she gave no outward indication. Hermione was hiding something. While it was theoretically viable for witches with menorrhagia take Blood-Replenishing Potion, it wasn’t as effective as the more specialised Manser’s Infusion. Studious girl that Hermione was, she definitely knew that from their potions textbook. Still, she obviously really needed the potion.

“I’m afraid I don’t have any readily available.” Though she would make it a point to from now on. “How serious are your symptoms? If its urgent, I could get some to you by tonight.”

“If that isn’t too much trouble,” Hermione said guiltily.

“No trouble at all! I’d been meaning to do some brewing anyway!” Casually, she added, “Speaking of which, here, I’ll give you the rest of my fast-acting Murtlap Essence, since I’ll be brewing more later. Just so you have some on hand if there’s an emergency. It’s been really popular lately.”

Hermione accepted the potion phials eagerly, relief evident in her posture. Interesting.

“Thanks Heather! You’re a lifesaver!” she thanked fervently.

Heather smiled and waved her brother’s friend off. So whatever was going on wasn’t just affecting her snakelings.

Hmm. Suddenly, she felt like she needed more data on runic healing potions. She’d have so much potion after that, and she hated to waste any. Oh well, she could probably hand them out to her tutees in all the four houses. She would explain to them that it was all in the name of her research, of course. She was sure they’d be happy to help her out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, I got the animagus thing from HP WIki. It's not easy at all. Imagine forgetting the incantation for just one day and having to redo everything starting from the darned mandrake leaf.
> 
> Anyway, come find me on [tumblr](https://lunarlooroo.tumblr.com/)!


	76. Duelling Tactics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read and commented! Your feedback makes me really happy!

That Saturday saw all seven members of the Defender’s Alliance gathered in the Den. They were currently discussing possible recruits, having subtly questioned them since school began. Heather was glad to see her brother’s complexion much improved, though he still looked a mite knackered.

“Lee and the Gryffindor Quidditch team are definitely in,” George confirmed, as Hermione jotted the names down.

Fred looked at Heather. “Don’t worry, Angelina and the other girls won’t be giving you any trouble.”

Her mouth twitched as she was reminded of her little altercation with the Gryffindor chasers before the Yule Ball last year. The three girls had eventually apologised, albeit sullenly. Honestly, she had already put it out of her mind.

“Luna and Neville will agree,” Ginny stated confidently. “Some of the Gryffindor girls in my year are likely to as well.”

“Dean too. Seamus,” Ron grimaced, “not so sure. He’s kinda pissed at Hadrian for stirring up the thing with You-Know-Who. His mum almost withdrew him from school.”

Next was her turn, but she had a question. “What, exactly, is the minimum age for the DA?” She knew many students from the younger years, courtesy of her unofficial study group.

They all automatically turned to Hadrian, deferring to him as the leader. “Well,” he said, tapping his chin thoughtfully, “there shouldn’t be one? Of course, the things we teach them will be scaled down if they’re younger. They need to learn how to defend themselves too, since _Umbridge_ ,” he sneered the name with disgust, “won’t be teaching them. Obviously, we won’t be sending first years out to battle or anything.”

Heather hid her surprise at the utter loathing in Hadrian’s tone when he mentioned that woman. It was justified, but she rarely saw him so hateful towards someone. Vernon Dursley was one. Voldemort was another. “Well, in that case, All the Slytherin first and second years will probably be receptive. A handful of third years too. Even some from the older years.”

Ron made a face. “Malfoy and his goons? No way!”

Hermione scoffed. “They’re not the only Slytherins in our year, you know.”

“No, not Malfoy. While I might have considered him,” she pointedly ignored the incredulous looks she got, “he idolises his father too much to try to break free of his influence. I was thinking more of Daphne Greengrass, Blaise Zabini and Tracey Davis.”

“Are you sure so many Slytherins would be willing to join?” Ginny asked tentatively.

Heather nodded. “Positive. Not all of them support Voldemort. They just can’t appear otherwise, or they’d be eaten alive by the ones who _do_. While not all of them are muggle sympathisers, they’re also not anti-muggle fanatics.”

“Well, if Heather says so, then we can trust her,” Fred said, and that was that.

“How’s the secrecy binding coming along?” Hermione asked, quill poised over her journal.

Heather brightened, pulling her knapsack over her lap to take something out. “I’ve got a contract finished. We can do it now. I created it so that the seven of us need to initiate it, then any following people just need to sign their full names on it.” Looking at the book their secretary was writing in, she remembered something. “By the way, Hermione, have you secured those notes? I can teach you how to bind it to you so that only you can read it.”

“Sure. After we do that contract then?”

“Right, so this contract will ensure that no one can divulge any information about the DA to anyone not already in it. The first warning is pretty benign. Just that your mind blanks out if you try to say or write down the information. If you try again, you will experience sharp pain of increasing severity in addition to the blanking out. This can escalate until the pain causes you to pass out. If anyone gets to that stage, we will be notified by the name on the contract glowing bright red.”

“Wow, sounds pretty thorough,” Hadrian said, amazed.

“But what happens after that? If we have a turncoat?” Fred asked astutely.

George frowned worriedly. “Is the pain life-threatening?”

“No, if it progresses to the stage that the person passes out, all memories of the DA will be wiped from their minds upon waking.”

Everyone turned silent as they stared at her. Heather firmed her lips, waiting for their reactions.

“A little harsh, isn’t it?” Hadrian eventually said, putting himself out there.

“This isn’t a game, Rian. Voldemort wants to wage a _war_. This might just be a little group formed by teenagers, but, like it or not, you are more than that to the deranged wizard. You’re the _Boy-Who-Lived_. You need all the advantage you can get, with Voldemort gunning after you. If any of our proficiency with magic gets leaked, it would beat the element of surprise.” By the end of her impassioned speech, she found herself on her feet, panting slightly.

Of all people, it was Ron Weasley who broke the silence eventually. “She’s right.” He sighed at his still-stunned friends and siblings. “It’s like a Quidditch game, innit? All about strategy. Say Snakeface thinks Hadrian’s just a little pest that needs to be crushed. He uses a fly swatter. Hadrian destroys the fly swatter, totally obliterates it. Snakey is so stunned Hadrian can get the drop over him. If You-Know-Who knew Hadrian wasn’t just a fly, but a dragon with a fleet of other dragons…”

“Then he’d use all his effort to attack Hadrian,” Ginny finished.

“Is that why you don’t tell anyone about your wandless magic, Hadrian?” Hermione asked.

Her brother shrugged. “Actually, it’s more of a habit now because of how secretive Heather is.” Frowning, he looked at her. “Come to think of it, why _was_ that? Besides the Dursleys, I mean. We didn’t know Voldemort was still alive until the end of your third year.”

“You’d already had so much attention on you, you didn’t need more. Besides, there is never any harm in having a secret ace up your sleeve,” Heather said simply.

“Slytherin,” all the Gryffindors in the room muttered.

“And where would you be without me to temper your recklessness?” she asked smartly.

“By George, she’s right,” George exclaimed.

“Indeed she is, Fred,” Fred replied.

She chuckled at their familiar antics. “Right, anyway, don’t worry about Veritaserum and Legilimency either. At least, where the DA is concerned. Any other deep, dark secrets, you’re on your own.”

“Vera-wha and Legi-huh?” Ron mumbled.

“Truth serum and mind reading,” Heather explained, cringing at the overly-simplistic descriptors. Professor Snape would likely tear into her for saying Legilimency was mere mind reading and not the intricate mental magic it was.

Nevertheless, she laughed at the scared look on Ron’s face, wondering what he had to hide. On second thought, knowing what she did about puberty and adolescent boys, she was better off ignorant.

“Come on, everyone stand in a circle and repeat after me.” They all shuffled into position, the parchment with the contract lying on the table in the centre. “By the way,” she said perkily, “get ready to shed some blood.”

The pale faces she was greeted with had her smothering cackles.

~~~

After some discussion, they had decided that each DA member would take turns to hold onto the contract and secretly get the new members to sign it. It was subtler than organising a meeting of all potential candidates, which had been their original plan.

Right now, it was Hadrian’s turn with it. There was really only one person he had in mind, since his friends had handled everyone else already.

Seeing the person he was waiting for walk into the room, he smiled widely. “Cedric, you made it!”

“Of course. We haven’t been able to meet up for ages.” The boy – well, _man_ now – grinned, came over after making sure the door was locked.

“You know, suddenly this whole thing feels pretty illicit,” Hadrian teased. “The gullible student being preyed upon by his Professor. You even did that ‘look left, look right’ thing before coming in.”

“ _Assistant_ Professor. Get your facts right, Mr Potter,” Cedric intoned sternly. He held that serious expression for a moment before cracking up. “Alright, sinful tryst aside, was there a reason you wanted to meet here and not in Hogsmeade? You know we don’t _really_ have anything to hide, right? I told Professor McGonagall about us before she took me on.”

“What, I can’t want to spend some time with my boyfriend in private?” Hadrian had gotten more comfortable around the older wizard, less prone to blush at every word and gesture. That, and he realised how fun it was to tease his boyfriend until _he_ blushed. Like right now.

“O-of course you can! I love spending time with you. I just thought you’d want to get out of school, since it’s the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year and all…”

“I get it, Cedric! You’re rambling,” he got out, giggling. “Actually, there _was_ something I wanted to ask. Without anyone overhearing.” His boyfriend gestured for him to go ahead, so he explained everything about the DA to him and showed him the contract. He could only talk about it to him because he was holding onto the scroll. It was the sole provision Heather had put into the secrecy spell for them to recruit more people.

“Wow.” Cedric was reading the contract carefully. “And your sister made this? That’s amazing.” He looked up. “You’re _all_ amazing. I can’t believe you guys are forming your own group to fight You-Know-Who!”

Hadrian bit his lip nervously. “So, what do you think?”

“Of course I’ll help! I can ask around among the Puffs too! I want to do my part. You’re in danger, aren’t you? You’re the Boy-Who-Lived!” The Hufflepuff gathered Hadrian’s hands in his and looked into his eyes. “I can’t let anything happen to you.”

He could feel a strong blush coming on (okay, so he hadn’t totally grown out of it), even as his heart warmed at the words. “I’m not the only one in danger, and I can take care of myself,” he mumbled, “but that means a lot to me. I’d be crushed if anything happened to you too.”

Cedric just smiled squeezing his hands. A silent moment passed between them before he picked up a quill. “So where do I sign?”

Hadrian pointed out a space, below where Dean Thomas had signed. Once that was done, he rolled up the parchment and tucked it safely in his bag.

“So,” he said leadingly, “we have the rest of the afternoon left. Is it okay if we stay in here and…do stuff? Just the two of us.”

For some reason, the made the older wizard sputter in shock. “A-are you sure? I mean, well-”

Furrowing his brows, Hadrian pouted. “You don’t want to sit here and cuddle a bit? Who knows when we’ll have time like this again.”

“C-cuddle,” the man said faintly. “Right. We should cuddle. Definitely. Cuddling is great.”

Hadrian looked at his boyfriend. He was being kind of weird. Oh well, he put those thoughts out of his head as strong arms pulled him closer on the loveseat.

~~~

Heather stretched her senses out, feeling for any other magical presences around the corner. Once she got the all-clear, she walked forward, squeezing the small hand grasped in her own, a signal to follow. She looked back to make sure that each third year and below was huddled around an older student.

She felt a light tug on her robes and found it was one of the second years, a wizard named Garrett Foster. “Heather,” he whispered, “Professor Umbridge said that student clubs are banned. Will we get in trouble for doing this?”

She swept her eyes across the group of Slytherins, seeing the question in their gazes. She caught one of her fellow seventh years’ eyes and smirked widely, winking. “We’re Slytherins, aren’t we? We don’t get caught.”

“But there will be _Gryffindors_ there,” another second year, Alice Montgomery, said, wrinkling her little nose.

“Well, who do you think made that secrecy contract?” she said, continuing forwards. George and Fred had mentioned it was somewhere here…

A chorus of breathy giggles trailed after her before they were shushed gently. Even though she had made sure to cast a disillusionment around them, it never hurt to be too careful. Turning another corner, she spied the tapestry in question. Ahah! The dancing trolls were unmistakeable. She asked them to wait nearby while she paced in front of it three times, thinking of the DA meeting room. Sure enough, as the twins had explained, a door appeared behind the drapery. Quickly ushering the children in, she closed the door behind her after making sure no one was in the vicinity.

Immediately, she heard the kids gasp in awe at the huge room that they were in. Heather gave it an appreciative look over herself. Forge and Gred had really outdone themselves this time. Well, it was actually Mipsy that had led them here, but they were the ones who had thought to ask a house elf.

“Heather’s here!”

She saw that she was the last to arrive. Probably because hers was the largest group. And the one with the youngest students.

Hadrian clapped his hands to gather everyone’s attention then performed a _Sonorus_. “Now that everyone’s here, let’s do a round of introductions first, okay?”

It was a pretty decent-sized group, for a first meeting. There were a handful of Puffs (courtesy of Cedric’s help), only one Claw (Ginny’s friend, Luna), a bunch of Gryffs and then Slyths took up about half the numbers. She expected there would be more people next time when the current members sounded out their other friends.

Among the Slytherins were two seventh years (the Prefects, Melinda Davies and Adrian Pucey), three fifth years (Daphne, Tracey and Blaise) and all the first, second and third years.

Heather could see the other students eying her house in distrust, so she stepped forward to shield some of the younger ones from view. She lifted a hand, causing her brother to pause in his instructions. When he nodded, she took a breath.

“I know what you are all thinking about us,” she spread her hands to indicate her housemates, “but there will be no house rivalries in the DA. We expect everyone to cooperate, no matter what house you’re from. There will be no bigotry. We are all here for a common purpose, and that is to learn how to defend ourselves and our loved ones in preparation for an enemy attack, be it Voldemort,” a wave of flinches across the room, “or some other psychopath.”

One of the Hufflepuffs snorted in disbelief, sneering. She recognised him. “You,” she pointed at the boy, “Finch-Fletchley. Anything to add?”

“Yeah,” the boy drawled contemptuously, “sure you baby Deatheaters aren’t just here to spy on us for your snake-faced master?”

The temperature dropped as everyone who knew Heather well enough groaned internally. The boy had just gone and done it.

“Justin Finch-Fletchley,” Heather hissed quietly. The sound somehow travelled across the large hall. “I remember when you were just tiny little second year. Shivering and afraid as an enormous python slithered towards you. When you accused my brother of attacking you.” She tilted her head, smirking. “What a good friend you were, turning your back on him at the first sign of trouble. Who was it, then, who killed the basilisk roaming the school? Hadrian, a parselmouth. Who was it, who brewed the potion that saved your life when you were petrified? Slytherins, one of whom was me.”

She put a hand on her hip. “You jumped to conclusions then, feeding off your own biases like those Pureblood anti-muggle fanatics you profess to oppose. I would thank you not to make baseless judgements like your second-year-self again.”

“I am a Slytherin,” she announced proudly, straightening her posture, “because of my cunning. I am a half-blood and my best friends are muggle sympathisers. I am _not_ a Slytherin because I am evil or nasty or a supporter of Voldemort. There have been Deatheaters from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw and, yes, Gryffindor. Think Reginald Warren, Bartemius Crouch Jr, Peter Pettigrew.”

She was alerted to the presence of someone coming up beside her by a hand on her arm. “I am Daphne Greengrass. I am a Slytherin because I am ambitious. I think You-Know-Who is a mad man who will bring ruin to everything magical Britain prides itself in, but only if we let him.”

Someone else stepped forward. “I am Adrian Pucey. I am a Slytherin because I am devious enough not to get caught,” here he winked at Heather. “I want You-Know-Who gone to create a safer world for my younger brother to grow up in.” He clutched little Anthony’s hand tightly.

One by one, her housemates each introduced themselves in that manner, relishing in the cowed expressions of those who had glared at them when they entered.

In the resulting hush, one Luna Lovegood began to clap, smiling dreamily. “That was delightful. The wrackspurts are gone now!”

Snickering, Ginny followed her friend’s example and soon, everyone was giving the Slytherins applause. Heather noticed her littlest ducklings’ awed looks and nudged them forward. Now, that was a sight to see – Slytherins mingling happily among the other houses.

Someone coughed loudly to gain her attention. She looked around to find a red-faced Justin Finch-Fletchley, wringing his hands nervously.

“I apologise for my words. I shouldn’t have accused you all of being Deatheaters. I hope we will be able put this behind us and work together.”

Heather looked at him critically before turning to some of the Slytherins in the boy’s year. Daphne stepped forward sighing.

“I suppose we can’t blame you. I mean, I know how Blaise looks to everyone. All that dark and doom!”

Said boy grunted in affront, scowling.

“See what I mean! You really _should_ lighten up, darling. And use your words!”

“Whatever, Greengrass,” Blaise muttered. The girl simply tutted at him.

Finch-Fletchley watched the byplay, utterly confounded. Daphne took pity on the poor boy and smiled at him. “That means it’s all fine.” She leaned in further, lowering her voice. “Us snakes may forgive this time, but we never _forget_.” A toothy grin. “ _Don’t_ talk to Heather that way again or you’ll find out how our house earned our reputation. We take care of our own. Understood?”

“Y-yes,” the boy stuttered.

“Wonderful!” Beaming and flipping her hair, Daphne said, “Let’s have a great time working together!”

Oblivious to the conversation, Heather watched as Finch-Fletchley shook Daphne’s hand, then Tracey’s and Blaise’s. An arm was slung over her shoulder while another behind her waist.

“You did great back there,” Fred said.

George faked a sniffle. “I practically shed tears.”

“Who knew you had such a flair for public speaking?”

“Heather Potter, next Minister of Magic?”

She scrunched her face up. “Ugh, I can’t _stand_ politics. Just leave me to my potions.” Seeing that Hadrian was rounding them up, she elbowed them both lightly. “Come on, it’s starting.”

They divided the group further into strata based on their skill levels. Many of her ducklings ended up in Beginner, though some ostensibly more trained ones went into Intermediate. The few others were termed Skilled and Hadrian disappointedly shelved his lessons for the Master group for until they improved to that level.

As Hadrian eyed his eager students, he proclaimed, “First things first. If, by some act of Merlin, Umbridge has managed to teach you something, forget it all now. Just forget it _entirely_.”

~~~

Heather sighed as she looked at the boys standing petulantly in front of her. Not even a simple Quidditch match could go by peacefully in this school, especially not when it was Gryffindors versus Slytherins.

“This is why I say you need to think before you leap,” Heather berated, shaking her finger at the three sullen boys. “Violence is never the solution!”

 Hadrian scowled. “But Malfoy-”

“I don’t care _what_ Malfoy may or may not have said! You fell for the bait, hook, line and sinker! I thought you were all a little smarter than that! Can’t you tell he just wanted to rile you up?”

“He made insinuations about our parents, your parents, even you!” George said angrily.

“What did you expect us to do, just ignore him?” Fred added.

She threw her hands up. “Yes! Our parents wouldn’t care and I certainly don’t need you guys to defend me, especially from the likes of _Draco Malfoy_!”

“We couldn’t just let the little ferret get away with it!” Their clearly-unrepentant expressions made Heather even more exasperated.

Time to bring out the big spells. “Was it worth your Quidditch ban then?” They shouldn’t have acted out, especially now with Umbridge in the school. The woman was just _looking_ for an excuse to punish them.

Hadrian wavered for a split second before nodding firmly. His sentiments were echoed by the twins. “Definitely!”

“Ugh,” she groaned. “I give up!” Narrowing her eyes, she said, “At least you’ll have more time for the DA. We have a lot of work to do.”

Her three boys pouted like the children they were as she left to go back to her dorm room. Now that she had handled the Lion side of things, it was time for the Snakes to feel her wrath.

She stormed her way through the castle, unknowingly causing other students to scramble out of the way. Most of them cringed, finding it in themselves to feel a little bit of sympathy for Malfoy. If there was someone everyone knew not to cross in the school, it was Heather Potter.

“Widdershins,” Heather hissed, practically Parseltongue, if she possessed the skill. The dungeon wall swung outwards, admitting her into her common room. Everyone stopped what they were doing to stare at the Fury-incarnate step in.

Her eyes swept across the room, finding a smug-faced Malfoy in the midst of regaling his cronies with the tale of his earlier doings.

“Draco Malfoy.” The room immediately quietened. The Pureblood Heir straightened his spine, turning to face her. To his credit, he showed little reaction to her fury.

“I would like to speak with you regarding what happened earlier.” She tilted her head mockingly, enjoying the trepidation that was creeping into Malfoy’s eyes. “Really, the things I heard…”

It wasn’t like she’d scolded her boys because she okay with what Malfoy said. The opposite, in fact, she was _livid._ The insults to her and Hadrian weren’t so bad, but she wouldn’t stand for the words against her parents or Mr and Mrs Weasley. It seemed like the snakes had forgotten what had happened the last time someone insulted her mother.

Let it not be said that Heather had no mercy, though. Malfoy was still a child, and she would never threaten someone younger than her. She was no brute.

Malfoy nodded carefully and stepped forward. In a casual show of dismissal, she turned her back to him and led the way out of the common room. The whispers started even before the door swung shut.

There were many unused rooms in the dungeons and she simply picked the closest. She raised a few privacy barriers to keep nosy students away and then turned to face the boy.

“Was there anything you would like to apologise for, Malfoy?” She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow in expectation.

The boy simply pasted on a condescending look, one he obviously tried to copy off his father. It didn’t have quite the same effect.

“Nothing at all, hmm?” She waved her wand idly, conjuring two armchairs for them both. Malfoy visibly twitched at the casual display of nonverbal magic. “Please, sit. I think we have much to talk about.”

There was a brief moment where she thought Malfoy would storm out, but that quickly passed and he sat with as much dignity as he could muster.

“So, Malfoy. Care to repeat your earlier words? Something about my parents and the Weasleys?”

The boy couldn’t help but sneer at the mention of the latter.

Heather nodded, as if she’d had her point proven. “Yes, you had rather unkind words for them, as I recall. Whatever did they ever do to you? My brother and I haven’t said a single word against _your_ family, so why would you not return the courtesy?”

He was clearly offended at the very suggestion. “ _My_ family has done nothing but uphold the traditions and practices of our proud wizarding ancestry. There’s nothing to be said against us!”

“Voldemort,” she stated, watching him flinch at the word, “is a monster, barely half a man at this point. And your father is his grovelling servant. _Proud_ isn’t the word I would use.”

“He was Imperioused,” Malfoy said unconvincingly.

“So your father is weak, then,” she concluded, “My brother could resist _Imperio_ in his fourth year.”

Outrage crossed his expression. “So this is what this is? I insult the weasels and you insult my family?”

“Of course not” she said flippantly, “An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind. And it wasn’t only the Weasleys you insulted, if you recall.” Malfoy made a valiant attempt to school his expression. To be quite honest, he was being much more cooperative than she had expected. Perhaps it was because she was a housemate, or maybe because she was a girl.

“Tell me, Malfoy. Have you ever heard of what happened to Rhianna Rowle?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed that! So the DA finally gets the ball rolling and we see another Hadrian/Cedric interaction!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr [here](https://lunarlooroo.tumblr.com/).


	77. Dragons and Snakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for your comments! Reading them all really makes my day! Hope you guys enjoy the next chapter!

"Relax,” Heather said, when the boy paled even more than his usual fair skin tone. Clearly, the story had made its way around. She wondered, though, if whatever he’d heard was even accurate. “I don’t make it a point of hurting children.”

As expected, Malfoy bristled at being called a child.

“I am simply making a point that I don’t take insults to my family lightly. Especially insults to my mother, just because of her roots. I don’t know whether you have a legitimate reason for disliking muggleborns and muggles, or if you’re just spewing the same nonsense your father does. Frankly, I don’t care. I will not stand by idly as you besmirch my mother, just as you would not if your own family were the ones targeted. You should know how important family honour is. I would thank you to refrain from such slurs in the future.”

“And your brother? I suppose you would like for me to bow to the Golden Boy’s every whim like the rest of the world?” Malfoy scoffed in disgust.

Raising an eyebrow, she said, “Now, I never said that, did I? You’ve had your quarrel with Hadrian for years. I would not interfere with that. He can defend himself against whatever you choose to throw at him. My late parents however, I ask that you leave to rest. As for the Weasleys, I believe that is not my battle to fight. Fred and George have no compunctions about taking retribution from those younger than them.”

The mention of whatever pranks the twins had planned for Malfoy made the boy look slightly fearful.

Believing she’d said enough, she stood from her seat. “I suggest you heed this warning, Malfoy. I don’t dislike you and I don’t want to have to back up my words with actions.”

She paused by the door.

“If I were you, I would also carefully think what about your stance in the upcoming war is. Do you truly believe what your father says about those not of pure blood or are you simply parroting his ideals around the place? Look at Hermione, a muggleborn and one of the most brilliant minds of our generation. Dumbledore, a halfblood and arguably the most powerful wizard in Britain. With the way things are proceeding, we may very well meet on opposite sides of the battlefield and I wouldn’t want you to be defeated while fighting for beliefs not even your own.”

She left without a backwards glance to see Malfoy’s reaction to her words.

~~~

Heather paused in writing her Transfiguration essay to answer a fourth year’s question about boggarts. She liked to do her homework in the library because she could tutor others at the same time. With so many commitments on her shoulders, this allowed her to save a lot of time. Especially since Umbridge had taken the position, causing an exponential rise in DADA queries. She foresaw a record breaking low in Defence marks this academic year. Though hopefully not among those she was helping.

As she was going back to her own work, Heather felt him walk towards her table. She kept her head lowered, hiding her curiosity. He might not even be approaching her.

“May I have this seat?” was the question posed in that cultured tone she had come to expect from him.

Heather could feel the anticipation of the other students at the table, though she ignored them and nodded at the new arrival. “Of course, Malfoy.” The fourth year beside her was practically vibrating with the urge to say something, but she was glad he refrained. She wondered what Malfoy was up to, coming to her after their chat the other night.

“Please, call me Draco. I believe I extended the invitation to you last year.” The younger wizard smiled politely, though the intense look in his eye belied the casualness of his tone.

Ahh, right. The ‘Hadrian Potter Stinks’ badge incident. She hadn’t thought he was serious about the offer, considering the circumstances. She hadn’t returned the courtesy then, but perhaps she would now. It seemed like Ma- _Draco_ was offering a truce. “Please call me Heather, then, Draco.”

It startled her a little how eager he looked at her suggestion. “I believe I shall, Heather,” he said with relish.

Well, no harm being friendly with the boy. “I hope we can put our earlier disagreement behind us, Draco. I am very protective my family, you understand.”

A flash of irritation passed through his expression before he waved it off with a careless flick of his hand. “Yes, that. No need to worry, Heather.”

Mouth tilting at the non-answer, she hummed something equally inconsequential and continued writing her essay.

When Draco showed up the next time, and then the next, Heather took it to mean that they had an accord. He had continued to jibe and needle at Hadrian, of course, but not a peep about their parents had crossed his lips. Well, that was good enough for her.

~~~

Hadrian clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention. Students from all four houses were practicing spells like _Oppugno, Dunamis_ and _Bombarda._ Since the first session, several more people had joined on the recommendation of their friends. They all stopped in their motions, though one remaining _Bombarda_ was cast, destroying a dummy on the far side of the room.

“Okay, well done everyone! You’re really getting the hang of these offence spells. Remember, in some cases, offence is the best defence! Now, this concludes the last DA session until of the school term. Hope you all have a good Yule break!”

Most of the group were lingered behind for a while, chatting excitedly about their holiday plans. Hadrian was immensely proud to see the students from different houses all chatting amiably with each other, even Slytherins.

He had eventually combined the Intermediate and Skilled groups once their levels equalised a little. This just made things easier to handle. Also, this way those more experienced could also act as teachers to the others, helping the whole group to learn faster. The Beginner group was still had a way to go, but that was to be expected for their age. They had already begun to improve by leaps and bounds.

Eventually, most of the students left for their rooms. Hadrian waved his sister off, chuckling at the firsties tugging onto her robes as they followed her. They really looked like the ducklings his sister liked to call them.

He crossed behind the partition separating the room into two to check if there were any other students in the Beginner group left behind. That had happened to a second year the last time and he didn’t want it to happen again.

Returning to the other side, he saw two more figures were left in the room. His mood brightened as he recognised one of them to be Cedric. He was just about to call out to his boyfriend when the unthinkable happened and the girl next to him dragged him down into a kiss.

Hurt flared in his chest and he staggered back a few steps. He must’ve made a sound, because Cedric pushed the girl away and turned around. The damned girl just clung onto his boyfriend’s arm and said something he couldn’t hear. Hadrian didn’t care. His eyes sought the exit, dismayed to find that it was behind the couple (the word brought a fresh wave of hurt).

He made a break for the door, ignoring Cedric’s cries for him to stop. As he made to leave, a thought occurred to him. Why should _he_ run? _He_ hadn’t done anything wrong. If anything, it should be Cedric who should be running away, ashamed. Hadrian would stay here and damned well demand an explanation from the two-timing bastard. He was a Gryffindor. They never ran when things got tough.

He pivoted on his heel and leaned against the door, folding his arms. Cedric, running towards him faltered a little at his rapid about-face, but quickly reached him.

“Wait, Hadrian. I can explain! That wasn’t what it looked like!” The Transfiguration apprentice grasped his forearms tightly, as if to prevent his escape.

Hadrian snorted incredulously. Did the man know what he sounded like? That was what _everyone_ said when caught cheating on their partner. “Oh? Then tell me what it looks like when you see your boyfriend kissing another girl?” he drawled.

The girl, whom he noticed was the Ravenclaw seeker Cho Chang, gasped. He scowled at her, recognising her as Cedric’s Yule Ball date. Had this thing been going on since _before_ they got together?

“It wasn’t me, I swear! Cho just suddenly sprang it on me!” Cedric shot a narrow-eyed look at the girl, frowning. “Tell him, Cho!”

Hadrian directed his unimpressed gaze to the red-faced girl. She was fidgeting with her sleeve nervously, biting her lip. Looking down, she murmured, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you two were together, honest! I’ve just liked Cedric for ages now. I saw the mistletoe and just thought it was the perfect time to go for it!” She finally lifted her head, showing the tears in her eyes. “I’m really sorry!” Then she pushed past him to open the door and ran off.

Awkward silence descended upon the two remaining. Guilt pricked at Hadrian when he recalled the tears threatening to spill over Cho’s eyes. But there was also a part of him that felt viciously satisfied. Which compounded the guilt. He was a horrible person.

“Hadrian?”

“I’m sorry!” he blurted out. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions like that!”

Cedric shook his head, smiling self-deprecatingly. “It’s alright. I can only imagine how compromising that looked to you. We were literally lip-locked.”

Hadrian frowned, taking a step forward to close the gap between them. He grasped the other male’s hands and tried to inject as much sincerity as he could into his expression. “I’m still sorry. I should have had more trust in you.”

Cedric smiled tenderly, turning his palms so they could return the hold Hadrian had on them. Soon after, though, his smile turned wicked as he replied, “Well then, I’m sorry too for not being on guard enough against other people pulling me into kisses. Maybe I should wear a sign that says: Hadrian Potter’s boyfriend, do not kiss!”

That startled a laugh out of Hadrian, breaking the serious atmosphere around them. An idea started to form in his mind when he spied something over his boyfriend’s shoulder. A tiny tendril of magic easily summoned it over their heads. “You know, I’m a little miffed that someone else got to kiss my own boyfriend before I even got my first kiss.” He peered up at his boyfriend from under his lashes, waiting for his reply.

Cedric gulped, looking up at the three snowy white berries remaining in the bunch. “I think we can remedy that.” Then he leaned down.

~~~

Hadrian just about floated dazedly back to Gryffindor Tower, sighing out the password wistfully and entering. He was deaf to the Fat Lady’s knowing giggles and blind to the looks his friends gave as he drifted into a seat.

The loud snap of fingers right in his face startled him out of his musings. The sight of Ron, Hermione and Ginny crouched in front of him came into focus. “Oh, hello there. It’s such a beautiful night, isn’t it?” he voiced out dreamily, voice not unlike a certain blonde Ravenclaw they knew.

“Err, mate? Are you okay?” Ron asked, disturbed by his odd behaviour.

“Oh, I’m absolutely _perfect_. Never better.” Hadrian smiled softly to himself as a memory from earlier tonight played in his mind again.

Hermione crossed her arms, thinking. Suddenly, her eyes sparkled as she grabbed her friend’s shoulders. “Hadrian! Did something happen with Cedric?” Ginny gasped, jumping up and down excitedly.

Frowning, Ron looked between his two best friends. Something seemed to click as he screwed his face up in disgust. “Okay, _eww_! I said no details!”

Ginny shoved her brother aside. “Ignore this idiot. _I_ want the details!”

Hadrian couldn’t help the way his smile grew larger and brighter. “We had our first kiss.” And then the second. And third. And fourth, because who cared about the number of berries left on the mistletoe?

The girls squealed excitedly, launching into questions that were vaguely intrusive.

“Was he a good kisser? I bet he was!”

“How did it feel?”

“Did he use tongue? Did _you_?”

Slamming his hands over his ears, Ron shouted, “La la la lalalalala! I can’t hear you!”

“Oh grow up Ron!” Ginny sniped. “If you don’t want to listen, then go back to your room!”

By this time, Hadrian had been snapped out of his stupor by Ginny and Hermione’s terrifying enthusiasm. He jerked out of his seat, faking a yawn. He said quickly, “You know what? That’s a great idea! Come on, Ron, I’m knackered. See you tomorrow Ginny, Hermione!” With that, he passed Ron by to climb the stairs to their room. His friend needed little encouragement to follow after him.

“Spoilsports!” the girls called after them.

The common room was soon silent, with only the crackling of the fire to be heard. Hermione looked at Ginny, who was staring where the two boys once stood, a peculiar expression on her face.

“Are you okay?” she asked the younger girl worriedly. She nodded slowly, not turning her gaze away. Hermione’s eyes widened in realisation and she patted the younger girl’s back sympathetically. “Sorry, you used to have a crush on Hadrian, didn’t you? It must be hard to see him with someone else.” She wanted to hit herself for being so insensitive and forgetting that tiny fact.

Ginny blinked, thawing from her frozen pose. “Mmh. I guess so. He’s more like another brother to me now, but you never forget your first you know?” Something like regret passed through her eyes before they gained a wicked gleam. “But I never stood a chance anyway. The boy’s clearly queerer than a bronze Galleon! Did you _see_ how red and swollen his lips were? First kiss?” She snorted sceptically. “More like first _snog_.”

Hermione giggled along. She was just glad Ginny was taking it so well.

~~~

With a tiny crook of her finger, the floating stars of light (part indulgence, part training method) in the room extinguished themselves, plunging the room into darkness. Ensconced comfortably in her bed, Heather sighed, rotating her shoulders to get rid of the stiffness of sitting in one position for too long. She had meant to go to bed an hour ago, but _The Spellweavers’ Compendium_ had offered precious insights on her latest collaboration with Fred and George.

It was a new idea they had come up with for the DA. Tentatively named ‘Spellballs’, they hoped to create little orbs that would release a spell of choice when thrown. This would be excellent for the littlest ones who didn’t have enough magic for certain offensive spells. This way, they might be able to distract opponents long enough to escape or, ideally, to incapacitate them.

The trouble was in determining how to store fully-formed spells in an inert state. Thus, Heather had dived into books upon books of spell theory. This particular tome was especially comprehensive and she hoped to come up with an idea through the concepts presented in it.

Now, though, was time for sleep. Way past, in fact. Not that it mattered much. This wouldn’t be the first time she got less sleep than was healthy, even by her standards. Sliding into a supine position under the coverlet, she felt through a familiar spell thread, as was her nightly habit. She expected it to lead straight to Gryffindor Tower and her brother’s bed, since even his night time wanderings would have ended at this late (or was that early?) hour.

Heather was understandably alarmed to find her tracking spell directing her towards the Headmaster’s office. She leapt out of bed, a robe flying into her arms. Only the fact that no danger signals were coming from her brother allowed her to relax enough to put on an outer robe at all. Otherwise, she had no compunctions about running out clad in only a thin nightdress.

She spared a tiny thought for the alert spells on the common room door before yanking it open and leaving. As far as she was concerned, Professor Snape could give her all the detentions he wanted after she checked on her brother.

Sure enough, the moment she turned the corner, there her Head of House was, in all his fuming glory. He looked livid, probably because his sleep had been disrupted by what he believed was a Slytherin sneaking out to meet a paramour in the Astronomy Tower. Taking little notice of the apparent danger, she continued down the hallway, which brought her closer to the man.

“This had better be an emergency,” Severus Snape growled threateningly, “or I swear-” He turned to catch the offender in their tracks, ready to put the fear in Salazar in them, only to stop short at the sight of the least (or most, depending on how one looked at it) trouble-making student in his house. “Hea- Miss Potter? What the devil are you doing out of bed at three in the bloody morning?!” The early hour had him less controlled than usual, allowing the expletive to slip past his lips unhindered.

When had been forcefully awakened minutes ago by the spell he had on the Slytherin common room door, he had expected to encounter an amorous student on their way to a rendezvous. Not a deliciously ruffled Heather who looked like she had just rolled out of bed.

‘She obviously _has_ just come from her bed, Severus,’ a voice retorted sneeringly. A vexatious thought crossed his mind. What if _Heather_ was the amorous student?

Severus shook away all thoughts of a rumpled Heather and her bed, finally taking notice of the distress she exuded. A nightmare, perhaps, about that revolting man Dursley? He _had_ offered to be her confidant in such situations, but she had never taken him up on it. He was unsure whether to be relieved or disappointed about that fact.

His thoughts were derailed, however, when the witch walked _straight past him_.

“Miss Potter! What is the meaning of this!” He went after her, his long strides overtaking her in a matter of seconds.

“Hadrian’s in trouble,” she stated tersely, hurrying her steps.

If there had been any remnants of sleep in his eyes, they were swept away by that one line. Had the boy been attacked? How had they gotten to him in Hogwarts?

Heather answered his unasked questions. “He’s not in danger that I can sense, but he’s currently in the Headmaster’s office. Something must have happened.”

Right, that tracking charm she had on the boy. She had mentioned it during that disastrous third task. Tightening his jaw, he abruptly walked off course towards a subtly placed gargoyle. “Follow me,” he snapped. He laid a hand on the stone head, tapping his finger in a seemingly-nonsensical pattern as he hummed under his breath. Merlin forbid he be caught _singing_. Curse Albus and his predilection for inane passwords. The sweets had been bad enough. He ignored the look Heather was giving him and waited for ten seconds before knocking on the wall. The granite crumbled soundlessly to reveal a passageway, which he quickly dragged Heather through.

Behind them, the wall reformed seamlessly, as though undisturbed. He didn’t turn around to look, though he was certain his companion would. He could feel the expectant gaze boring in between his shoulder-blades as they treaded the secret path within the castle walls. If Heather were any less fretful, he knew she would be bombarding him with questions about the passageway.

Severus came to a stop in front of a stretch of wall, bare save for a subtle etching in one of the stones, indiscernible to those not actively looking for it. He repeated his earlier actions to the gargoyle, getting the same result. Across the hallway from where the wall opened up was the Headmaster’s office. What would have been a solid 15-minute walk had been reduced to 4.

He quickly gave the exclusive password for Heads of House, sweeping into the office when the door swung ajar. Albus looked up in surprise at his entry, though not so much as the three children present.

“Severus! What excellent timing. I had just been about to call you. Could you perchance fetch Miss Potter?”

Just as those words had left his mouth, Heather walked in after him.

“Ahh, I see there is no need for that. Come, my girl, take a seat. I am afraid that a spot of trouble has occurred.”

Severus raised a sardonic brow. His employer truly was a master of understatement. ‘A spot of trouble’ indeed. Certainly, a mere prank gone wrong or some such rot would not necessitate the two youngest Weasleys and both Potter siblings to be summoned before the crack of dawn.

The old wizard prompted the Potter boy to explain his odd dream about Arthur being attacked by a snake. Surely enough, it evoked that damnable overprotective instinct in Heather. Putting aside the strangeness of such an occurrence, Severus was himself more concerned for Arthur’s sake. While they were not bosom buddies even on the best of days, he considered the older man a comrade of sorts.

“Will Mr Weasley be okay?” Heather asked worriedly. She reached out to wrap an arm around the youngest Weasley girl, who looked to be on the verge of tears.

Severus grimaced. If the boy was to be believed, Arthur had been bitten by the snake belonging to the Dark Lord. It was not a species he was familiar with, likely having been corrupted by its master’s foul magicks. Which also likely meant that its venom was highly toxic and had no specific cure at present.

~~~

No one put up a fuss when they were herded to Grimmauld Place as if they were mindless sheep. Their thoughts were all devoted to Mr Weasley and his current condition. Heather hugged Ginny tighter to her side, feeling tiny tremors wrack her frame. It suddenly brought home to her how devastatingly _young_ the girl was, despite being but three years her senior. In terms of pure physical age, that was.

Heather had to make sure that Mr Weasley would pull through. She couldn’t just sit here and do _nothing_. She couldn’t bear it if her friends were tainted by the darkness of losing a parent too, not when she knew how gut-wrenching it was.

“Headmaster,” she called out softly, disengaging from Ginny. The old wizard turned from where he had just been about to floo to St Mungo’s. “Has Mr Weasley been administered the antivenin?”

The man’s eyes dulled over. Heather knew his answer before he even opened his mouth. “There is no antivenin available for this particular snake. Even if we knew its species, Voldemort’s magic has twisted it into something new entirely.”

Icy fear gripped her heart as she realised the implications of this. Without the antivenin, the only treatment option was to try to manage the symptoms and wait for Mr Weasley’s magic to purge the venom. The chance of survival was exponentially lower.

She wracked her brain for a solution, any solution. What was the use of learning Medimagic if she couldn’t save the people she cared about? Suddenly, a glimmer of an idea formed in her mind. Yes, if she hurried right now, she could probably just make it.

“Headmaster, please, I need to go into the Chamber of Secrets!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe some of you feel that Heather went easy on Draco, but honestly, he's the same age as Hadrian. I don't she would really threaten him or harm him, you know? Would feel too much like bullying.
> 
> Which is good for Draco, because even if Heather doesn't know it, he has a crush on her. Would be pretty traumatising for him if Heather really hurt him or something.
> 
> Also, Draco didn't really make such a big change just cos of what Heather said. He just felt it was a good opportunity to, well 'suck up' I suppose. Boys have done much more for their crushes haha. He's not suddenly on the Light's side or anything.
> 
> Anyway you can find me on tumblr [here](https://lunarlooroo.tumblr.com/)!


	78. Matters of the Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya folks. So here's another update! Thanks to all of you who read and commented! I really appreciate all your kind words!

The ride down the tunnel was as disgusting as ever. Even after a hasty cleaning charm, Heather felt the need to scrub her skin raw. She barely waited for the muted thump signalling her companion’s arrival before running deeper into the network of caverns.

She spared a brief moment of déjà vu to her fourth year, with this exact same thing happening. Only this time, she was rushing to save Arthur Weasley and not his daughter.

“We should have brought brooms,” she huffed in annoyance.

“If you fancy ending up as the latest stain on these walls, by all means,” the man behind her retorted.

“Why, Professor Snape,” she began, offended, “are you calling me a bad flier?”

“Do not put words in my mouth, Miss Potter.”

Even their back and forth banter was similar. It was almost nostalgic, if it weren’t for the distinct atmosphere of doom which tinted both these incidents.

They soon reached the main chamber, whereupon Heather very nearly emptied her stomach on the already-filthy floor. The cloying stench of rotting basilisk was eye-watering and she was quick to throw up a Bubblehead Charm. The clean filtered air was a blessed relief to her senses. For a moment, she was worried about the quality of venom remaining after all these years, but she hoped that the durability of the creature, even in death, would serve them well now.

Professor Snape was quick to get to work, putting on his protective cloak and gloves. Heather stood by, watching him work. Outside of her garden, she had no experience in ingredient gathering. Especially with dangerous materials like basilisk parts. She observed intently as the man pried the maw of the beast open, biceps bulging at the strain. Briefly distracted, she contemplated the strength the man held hidden beneath his restrictive black clothing. Inexplicably, it sent a shiver down her spine, which she attributed to the draughty dungeon.

She returned to attention when Professor Snape turned around, venom sac encased safely in a diamond phial. Painfully aware of the clock ticking, they headed off hastily to begin brewing Arthur Weasley’s cure.

They worked around each other seamlessly, familiarity smoothing away any bumps that might have arisen. Between the two of them – one a Potions Master, another a budding one – they made quick progress with the complicated brew. While Professor Snape was clearly the more skilled, Heather was able to keep up admirably.

Nearing the end, when the liquid was simmering quietly, she tapped her teacher lightly on the arm to nudge him away from the cauldron. She took up a diamond stirring rod, looking pointedly at the other wizard for permission. When given the go ahead, she smiled at the show of trust. With an experienced flourish, she drew the runes for swiftness, wholeness and health in rapid succession. The potion glowed brightly before settling.

She had tinkered around with the best combination of runes for this particular potion over the summer, when she had remembered the basilisk carcass lying underneath the school. It was truly serendipitous that she had, now that there was no time to think it over from scratch.

When the basilisk antivenin was finally done, they carefully ladled it all into unbreakable phials. Not a drop of the precious curative was spilt. They each took an equal portion of the phials by unspoken agreement.

Potion in hand, the older man shared triumphant a look with Heather. Both were looking worse for wear, robes askew and filthy from their time in the Chamber of Secrets. Nevertheless, a spark of _something_ passed between their locked gazes. Hours seemed to pass as she lost herself in his dark stare. An urge she couldn’t name rose up in her and she found herself taking a step forward.

The moment was broken when Heather recalled the reason for their urgency in the first place. Inexplicably, disappointment reigned in her mind when she left for Grimmauld Place while Professor Snape went to hand the potion to Dumbledore.

The nagging sense of an opportunity lost hung over her head the whole way.

~~~

Just as Heather started to nod off against Hadrian’s shoulder, the fireplace flared green. She startled awake, watching blearily as Mrs Weasley stepped through, Dumbledore following a while after. She stifled a yawn guiltily at the dark circles under her friends’ eyes. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but all that dashing about must have worn her out.

Through the crack in the curtains, she noted that dawn had broken. She estimated that it had been an hour since the antivenin was completed. Enough time for it to have acted, especially with the runes in play.

Heather scrutinised Mrs Weasley, noting the ease in her shoulders and light in her eyes with immense relief. While she had been reasonably confident about the potion working, she had had no clue whether she and Professor Snape made it in time or not.

The Weasley children in the room swarmed their mother, pelting her with questions. Hadrian and Heather hung back awkwardly, watching the family come together in shared tears and joy at the (relatively) good news. Mrs Weasley wouldn’t have that though, clucking her tongue in exasperation and pulling them into the group hug.

She gripped Rian’s hand tightly, snuggling deeper into the hug and enjoying the warmth of family.

The mood in the house was markedly higher during breakfast. They would be visiting Mr Weasley at the hospital after this, and that was enough to help Heather stave off sleep. It had been a struggle for them all to wait for opening hours at St Mungo’s to start before making their way, but they managed adequately, if not graciously.

Because there were so many of them (Fred, George, Ginny, Hadrian, Heather, Mrs Weasley, Sirius and Remus) they decided to floo there directly rather than risk gaining attention by going out into the muggle world in such a large group.

When they were finally let into the ward room after flying through the hoops that were hospital bureaucracy, Heather and her brother once again stood back to let their friends reunite with their father. Mr Weasley looked rather robust for a man who had been mortally injured only hours before. In a strange twist of fate, she thanked Salazar (how fitting that expression was now) for the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets.

Heather drifted over to the healer’s report at the foot of the bed, perusing it. She paled rapidly at the messily-written notes. Severe haemorrhaging leading to hypovolemic shock, crushed trachea, bilateral renal failure, peripheral tissue necrosis. Yet, Mr Weasley looked mostly well but for the bandage around his neck and a slight bit of paleness! It was a wonder how much magic could heal.

Administering the antivenin had stopped the necrosis from spreading and allowed the wound to clot properly. Before that, the healers had been struggling to prevent Mr Weasley from bleeding out. The venom was apparently a potent anticoagulant as well.

She quickly shut the file, putting it out of view. She hoped none of the others read this. They didn’t need to know exactly how close the man had been to death.

~~~

Unfortunately, they couldn’t stay at the hospital for long, and they were quickly ushered back to Grimmauld Place. Now that the immediate danger was over, Heather began to wonder about the entire situation. Hadrian had explained to the anxious Weasley children exactly what had happened while waiting for the news. She was perplexed by his words. A vision, he had called it. To her knowledge, Hadrian had shown no signs of being a Seer. If he truly had the gift, visions would have manifested at an early age.

So why had Hadrian dreamt about Mr Weasley being attacked by a snake?

“No, you don’t understand. I _was_ the snake,” her brother said, pained, “I felt my fangs tearing through his neck, felt the warm blood spilling out. He was prey and I was ecstatic over my successful hunt.” He clapped a hand over his mouth, dry-heaving.

She pulled him into her arms, rubbing soothing circles into his back. “Sshh, Rian. You know that’s rubbish. Whatever caused you to dream of that snake’s perspective during the attack, just remember. You didn’t attack Mr Weasley. That _wasn’t_ you.”

“Yeah, mate. Heck, if it wasn’t for you, who knows _what_ could have happened to Dad.” Ron looked a tad green at the thought of his father bleeding out on the floor without anyone knowing.

“You saved our Dad, Hadrian. Don’t think otherwise,” Ginny affirmed, nodding.

Her brother sighed. “Thanks for believing in me. I’ll try to do that myself. It was just so _real_. Much more vivid than the other dreams I had.”

Alarmed, Heather leaned back to look into his eyes. “What other dreams?”

“I’ve been having hazy dreams about the same long corridor Mr Weasley was in. There were lots of shiny orbs. I was looking for something.” He shrugged. “Been a couple of weeks now. They come and go. Like I said, those were very foggy. Like looking through frosted glass.”

Heather had to revise her earlier thoughts. Those _did_ sound like prophetic visions. Was it possible for a new skill in Seeing to reveal itself post-puberty?

“Err, guys. Bad news,” Fred called from other end of the room. He and George were using an Extendable Ear to listen in on the Order meeting going on downstairs. The Order was up to something in the Ministry. What, exactly, they weren’t sure. What with the school term starting, they hadn’t been able to eavesdrop on the meetings.

“What is it?” Hadrian asked anxiously. “Is it about the attack?”

“Sort of,” George hedged.

“Dad was guarding something in the Ministry. Something that Snakeface wants,” Fred explained.

“They think you were possessed,” George blurted out. Wincing, he muttered, “That could have come out better.”

“What my brother means to say,” Fred said, rolling his eyes, “is that old Dumbles thinks your scar holds a connection to He-Who-Has-Too-Many-Bloody-Names and his excitement about the attack accidentally gave you that dream.”

“Voldemort can see my dreams?!” he all but shrieked.

A short burst of laughter left Ginny’s lips. “Why, got something to hide?” she ribbed. “Good dreams of Cedric?”

“No!” Rian protested vehemently, face burning. “It’s just creepy, that’s all.”

“As hilarious as that sounds-”

“-no, that’s not what we said.”

“Not to say it couldn’t be true. Who knows-”

“-what’s really happening.”

“All Dumbledore said is that-”

“-Snakey was so hyped up he sent you dreams.”

“So it’s like the other way round? You’re seeing You-Know-Who’s dreams,” Ginny inferred.

“Ugh, I don’t know which is worse,” Ron muttered.

“What kind of _good dreams_ does Voldemort have?” Hadrian shivered in revulsion, the others giving similar reactions.

“Let’s not follow that delightful train of thought,” Heather stated firmly, “Anything else happen?”

“They’re stationing more people at that place,” Fred said.

“Still no clue where it is though,” George added, shrugging.

“Just that it’s in the Ministry.”

“Must be something important, if they want to keep it away from You-Know-Who so bad,” Ginny said lowly. Enough to risk their lives to guard it, was what she left unsaid, clearly thinking of her father.

Frowning in thought, Heather said, “I don’t think there’s much we can do about that secret thing at the moment. I’m more concerned about this so-called connection between Hadrian’s scar and Voldemort.”

“Figures you’d be,” Ron said.

“Heather-harp’s right,” George said, bopping his brother lightly in the head.

“Yeah. If Hadrian can see into Snakey’s head, who’s to say the opposite can’t happen?” Fred reasoned.

Heather scowled. “I’m not sure the secrecy contract covers this weird mental connection. It can ward off Legilimency and Veritaserum, but I didn’t anticipate this. Furthermore, what if there are other consequences to this link?”

“I felt really weird earlier,” Hadrian mentioned, “I think it was the connection. When I looked Dumbledore right in the eye, I just felt so angry. Like crazy-rampage angry.”

“Sure it wasn’t just the sparkly violet robes? I’m pretty sure those should be illegal,” Ginny offered.

“Nope, though you’re right on that count.”

“That’s pretty messed up, mate.” Ron suddenly shoved his face closer to Hadrian’s, squinting. “Feel any different?”

Her brother pushed him away, chuckling. “Nothing, still annoying.”

“Hey!”

“I’ll start researching again. I shouldn’t have stopped last year when you got those visions, but there was just so much other stuff to do.”

“Don’t you have a lot of stuff right now too?” Hadrian looked at her sternly. “Don’t think I can’t see those bags under your eyes. You’ve been working too hard. Maybe we should ask Hermione to assist you with the DA research to give you more free time.”

“Well, if Hermione has the time, she can help,” Heather said easily. That would just free up more time for her to investigate this weird connection. It wasn’t like she was running herself ragged every day. She was just a bit more tired than she was used to.

Who had time to sleep when their brother was sharing headspace with a deranged megalomaniac?

~~~

Mr Weasley was quickly discharged from hospital, good as new after being treated by the antivenin. Hermione eventually joined them at Grimmauld Place and the rest of the school break passed without event.

It was on the last day before they were due back to Hogwarts that Hadrian received some interesting news.

“Potter,” a familiar voice barked out. Both Heather and Hadrian looked towards the door. Standing at the entrance to one of the drawing rooms in Grimmauld Place was none other than Professor Snape.

Heather’s heart fluttered restlessly at the sight. She hadn’t seen him since their last charged encounter, when they finished brewing the antivenin. She hadn’t figured out her strange reactions to the man, and she had a feeling she didn’t want to.

“Yes Professor Snape?” they both said together. Looking at her brother, she couldn’t stifle a smile. FredGeorge would be so proud.

“I was referring to _Mr_ Potter,” he snapped impatiently.

She raised an eyebrow at his tone. It seemed he was in a mood today. And not only because he was speaking to her brother. He was truly frustrated by something.

“Would you like me to leave?” she asked, already preparing to get up. Hadrian shot her a panicked look at the thought of being left alone with the intimidating Professor.

Heather could see the man thinking before he scowled. “Sit back down,” he commanded. “It would be easier to just tell you both.”

The man crossed over to the seat opposite them and sank into it fluidly. “I have been tasked by the Headmaster to teach Mr Potter Occlumency.”

_Occlumency?_ Heather let a tiny giggle escape. How ironic.

“Yes, Miss Potter, I am aware of the irony of the situation,” Professor Snape stated dryly.

She sat up straight. “I’m still occluding, right? You didn’t pick that up from my head?”

He gave her an unimpressed look. Uh oh. “Yes,” he sighed in exasperation, “your shields are still adequate. Glad to see my instruction has not been for naught. Also, I believe I have said that the mind is not-”

“-a book to be read, with thoughts as sentences off a page. Yes, I know,” she finished cheekily.

“That is _not_ what I said.”

“Yes, but I didn’t think you would appreciate me quoting the whole conversation back to you, so I paraphrased. I could still do it now, if you like.” She really could. She could quote a lot of what he said, she realised. He could be quite poetic, for such a sullen man. Well, brooding and poetry went hand in hand, she supposed.

Her brother shifted uncomfortably on the couch they shared, reminding her that they weren’t alone. Professor Snape cleared his throat, closing off his expression.

“The Headmaster believes that any future…episodes can be prevented by Occlumency. Thus, it falls upon me to instruct you on the delicate art. Lessons will be held every Monday and Wednesday, after dinner. Do not be late. I have much better things to do than pander to a misbehaving brat. It is also imperative that these lessons remain confidential. Word cannot get back to the Dark Lord about them.”

“Won’t anyone get suspicious about me going to the dungeons twice a week?” Hadrian asked.

“Actually,” Heather chimed in, “would it be easier if _I_ taught Hadrian? You’ve already deemed me passable,” which to the common person meant ‘skilled’, “and it would be less risky. Your position wouldn’t be jeopardised.”

“Your passing knowledge in Occlumency is not enough to instruct someone. Legilimency is also a required skillset,” he said imperiously.

“Well, I read more about Legilimency after our lessons. It’s much easier to learn than its counterpart. If you’re amenable, you could teach me how to do it today. And if we’re not done by today, it would be easier for me to sneak into your office for the lessons than Hadrian. I’m sure you have much better things to do than dedicate two evenings a week to teaching him Occlumency when you can just teach me Legilimency for a few days.”

There were several reasons she was being this insistent. Firstly, she truly did believe Professor Snape’s time was better spent elsewhere. He already had so many commitments on his plate. Secondly, Occlumency had to be taught by someone you trusted. Hadrian tiptoed around the man, even if he knew that he didn’t genuinely mean him harm. Thirdly, she kind of did want to learn Legilimency.

The man gave her a considering look, weighing the options in his mind. She knew he would agree to her proposition though, since it was beneficial to him.

Suddenly, he whipped out his wand and pointed it straight at her. _“Legilimens,”_ he murmured.

The soft tone in which he incanted the spell in no way matched the battering ram that was his mental attack. Caught off guard, he almost penetrated her regular shields before she shored up her defences. She could feel the persistent probing in her mind, feeling for any weakness to exploit. The spell went on for a long while, testing the limits of her endurance. When she felt the invasion finally recede, she almost relaxed before remembering that she should have her shields up at all times.

It was a good thing she did, because she could feel the tiniest flicker of sensation remaining, prodding lightly and looking for weak spots. It was nothing like the heavy-hitting attack earlier, but she knew it could easily bypass her defences if she faltered even slightly.

Finally, it seemed like Professor Snape had deemed her shields sufficient, for he lowered his wand and the spell. Properly, this time. That had been strenuous. Mental exhaustion was no easier to bear than physical, despite claims to the contrary.

“Very well,” Professor Snape pronounced, “Be prepared to learn both types of Legilimentic attack. While not as difficult to grasp as Occlumency, it is by no means a simple spell.”

Heather wiped the sweat off her forehead, grinning at the implied praise. Well, sort of. The fact that he was willing to teach her meant he believed she could do it. He wasn’t one to waste time on unmanageable ventures.

She turned to her brother to see what he made of that, only to find him glaring intently, wand out at the Professor. He snapped back to his senses, lowering his wand sheepishly. “Sorry, sir,” he muttered.

Huh. She guessed it was a sensible reaction to someone abruptly turning their wand against you. It was a good reflex to have, especially with the current situation in Britain. She would have done the same thing, if it were someone else on the other end of that wand.

She hadn’t batted an eye when Professor Snape had done it. He had drawn his wand at her and cast a spell and she hadn’t even tried to defend herself or dodge. It dawned on her then that she really trusted him unconditionally.

Heather didn’t know why that realisation stunned her. She should have known that already. But seeing that play out had been different from thinking about it theoretically.

~~~

The door shut with a solid thud as Hadrian scuttled out of the room. He leaned against the closed door, somehow feeling like he’d just had a close call. He had never felt such an urgent need to leave a room before. It was bizarre. It was Professor Snape who had barged into the room while he and his sister had been working on some DA stuff, and yet _Hadrian_ felt like he was the one intruding.

Bizarre didn’t cover it.

He had never seen the man so… _not_ angry before. He doubted he had ever seen the man not angry, period. Heather had repeatedly assured him that the Slytherin Head wasn’t as bad as he appeared, but seeing was believing. Well, it would be if he could wrap his mind around it.

“Hadrian? Thought you were in the Blue Room with Heather.”

Blinking rapidly, he saw that he had made his way to the adjacent room while stuck in his head. The four youngest Weasley children and Hermione were sprawled in various poses across the room, doing their own things.

Shaking his head, he answered Ginny absently, “Oh, Professor Snape just arrived.” His friends all looked up in curiosity, except for the twins, who simply nodded.

“Ahh, that explains it,” they both stated.

“Explains what?” He frowned at them in confusion. “Did you two know he was going to come today?”

“Well, not exactly. What we-”

“-meant was that we aren’t surprised-”

“-you got booted out of the room.”

He rolled his eyes. “I didn’t get ‘booted out’, they just have stuff to do.”

“Why was Professor Snape looking for Heather?” Hermione asked.

Plopping himself on an available couch, Hadrian hummed thoughtfully. “That’s the thing, though. He was actually supposed to be here for _me_.”

“What d’you mean, mate? What does the old bat want with you? Giving you detention in advance?” Ron said, sniggering.

“No,” Hadrian muttered, “he was actually pretty _nice_ today. Well, by his standards. I think he may even have smiled once. Or it was a smirk, at least. And not one of those ‘50 points from Gryffindor’ smirks. And honest-to-Merlin _amused_ smirk.”

Ginny got up from her lounging position on the carpet and leaned forward eagerly. “No way! Tell us everything!”

So Hadrian recounted the conversation, adding some commentary about his sister’s and the Professor’s behaviour. As he did so, he realised how comfortable Heather was with the man. She was usually unfailingly polite, if not cold, to people she wasn’t close to. She had only started being comfortable with teasing Sirius and Remus the last summer holidays!

“What is this thing you need to learn? Is it a potion?” Hermione asked in interest.

 “Never mind that! Are you sure Heather said all that?” George asked.

“Word for word?” Fred added.

Hadrian nodded, understanding their confusion. “More or less.”

“So what? Sounds like how she talks,” Ron said offhandedly, going back to his Quidditch Weekly.

Hadrian exchanged looks with the twins. Yes, Heather did talk like that. With _them_. Her brother and best friends. The others didn’t know how Heather behaved when around other people. It was markedly different. She could come across as distant, or even stand-offish.

Heather and Professor Snape didn’t talk like student and teacher; they bantered like old friends. It was absolutely bizarre, considering it was _Snape,_ nasty bat of the dungeons, the bane of Gryffindors everywhere. He didn't even know Professor Snape could speak in anything other than condescension and snarls. Yet he had listened to Heather's suggestion about Legilimency, when Hadrian had expected him to reject it out of pure contrariness.

There was an implication somewhere in there, and Hadrian felt like it was an important one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me on [tumblr](https://lunarlooroo.tumblr.com/)!


	79. Umbrage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Thanks for your continued support! I really appreciate all of you who read and comment my work! You people are all awesome!

It was with a heavy heart that Hadrian returned to Hogwarts after the Yule Break. Don’t get him wrong; he loved the school and learning more about magic every day. It was just one person in particular he was dreading to see again. That disgusting, horrid, unbearable toad of a woman. Dolores Umbridge.

Or as Ron had aptly put it once, Umbitch.

The damnable woman with her sickly saccharine smile and grating falsetto voice. She dared to deny all claims of Voldemort’s return and then accuse _him_ of being the liar. He rubbed his right hand soothingly, feeling the phantom pain of words carved into it. There was nothing visible there, of course, thanks to his sister’s potions. Heather knew nothing about his detentions, thank Merlin. He had made sure of that. In fact, besides Hermione, no one knew.

Hadrian didn’t know how his friend had gotten Blood Replenisher from Heather, but he was grateful. That week had been pure torture, with detentions assigned every bloody night. Literally. He had been on the verge of fainting from blood loss. He knew it had been visible from how pale he had become.

He wouldn’t give up though, no matter how many detentions he would get from Umbitch. He couldn’t just sit there and _not_ say anything when she spewed such blatant rubbish. He had _seen_ Voldemort, felt the agonising pain of his _Crucio_. No matter how much Hermione told him to just lay low and bide his time, he couldn’t.

He was just glad that the toad had stopped talking about Voldemort and focussed more on her _precious_ Ministry-approved DADA curriculum. It was completely useless, true, but the DA sessions were enough of a victory for him to keep quiet in class. His hand was thankful for the break from the torture of that stupid quill.

Having Cedric in the DA had been very helpful. He knew the schedule of the Professor’s patrols, so avoiding discovery was a piece of cake with some fine coordination and copious use of the Marauder’s Map. He knew Heather and the twins were currently working on reproducing a copy of it – with some nifty additions – for each of the founding DA. When they were done with it, everything would be much easier.

Now, if only they could come up with a way to knock Umbitch down off her high horse so that she was too unsuitable, even by the Ministry’s flimsy standards, to teach at Hogwarts.

~~~

The second morning of the school term started with a bang. Quite literally, as a loud sound was heard from the Gryffindor table shortly after the owls had swooped in during breakfast to deliver the mail. Heather glanced towards the source of the noise, surprised to find Neville Longbottom standing, red-faced and glaring, with his palms flat on the table. He quickly reverted to his shy self when he realised where he was and sat down with an audible ‘eep’.

She had never seen the gentle boy so worked up before. It must have been quite something to rouse his anger like that. And it _had_ been anger she saw in his eyes. Not that she thought poorly of him like so many others did. Oh, she knew what some people said about him. ‘The Cowardly Lion’, ‘Baby Longbottom’, et cetera. They were all wrong about him, though.  While Neville wasn’t the classic Gryffindor, she had seen his quiet strength and persistence shine through, especially in the DA.

He had really improved by leaps and bounds over the course of the meetings. Heather believed that all he needed was more confidence and the right teacher. She ador- _admired_ Professor Snape, truly she did, but even she could see that his caustic style of teaching clashed badly with Neville’s personality.

Still, her curiosity had been piqued. Quickly finishing her omelette, she snagged the newspaper that her darling Hedwig had brought to her. She could only infer that it was something in the Daily Prophet that had triggered Neville’s temper, since it had been lying open in front of him when she looked over. Turning it over, her hands clenched tightly, crumpling the parchment. Ahh, she understood his reaction now.

**MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN!**

Her eyes swept subtly across her table over the paper, taking in the reactions of her housemates. Those she saw that had a glint of satisfaction in their eyes she made sure to avoid for further DA recruitment. She was relieved to see that most of them, including all the DA members, looked dismayed. She _might_ have cheated a little with Legilimency for those with perfectly diplomatic expressions. Though it was unintentional, she swore. She hadn’t known about this little skill most Legilimens had until Professor Snape mentioned it. To those with unguarded minds, she could pick up just the slightest hint of their emotions when she looked at them, even without casting a thing. No wonder Professor Snape had seemed so all-knowing in his classes. She didn’t even put it past him to outright use Legilimency on his students.

Putting that aside for now, she went on to read the rest of the article. Ten Deatheaters had been broken out of the wizarding prison yesterday. Yes, ‘been broken out of’. While the article didn’t state it, Heather knew they must have had outside help in the form of a certain crazy snake-wizard amalgamation. She didn’t know how those in the Ministry could still deny Voldemort’s existence after this. Somehow they were blaming it on a defecting Dementor, which, okay, was a pretty solid theory. (There was one line insinuating _Sirius_ had been the one to help, given that he was the only known escapee from the prison, but the reporter knew better than to slander the newly-instated Lord Black.)  It was the height of foolishness to use creatures that held no loyalty to wizards as guards for the nastiest of criminals. It was a disaster waiting to happen.

She tried to put the facts together. She knew Voldemort had a part in this scheme. And to do all this unimpeded likely required the Dementors’ help. She could only infer that Voldemort had somehow bribed or recruited those wraiths to his side.

She knew what spell the DA needed to be taught next.

~~~

“Have you been meditating like I taught you?”

Hadrian, seated facing the fantastic view the window in the Den offered, nodded. “Every night, like you said.”

Heather smiled approvingly. “Good. Any success in clearing your mind? Not sure how rowdy your dorm room is, since I’m alone in mine.”

Fred and George, experimenting in the other corner of the room, grumbled about the unfairness of it all. Heather shushed them, reminding them that they needed a quiet space for their lesson.

“Oh, I just shut the curtains around my bed and put up a Silencing Charm.”

This time, her redheaded friends guffawed loudly, earning a glare from her. They put their hands up. “Just find it hilarious, is all, that your brother is the only teenaged boy using a Silencing Charm for _meditation_.”

Confused, she turned back to her brother, only to find him blushing up to his ears at the comment. “I don’t think I want to know,” she said eventually and shushed the twins again.

“Okay, let’s focus. I’ll start off like how Professor Snape taught me. I’ll cast a light _Legilimens_ so that you can feel how it is like.”

And so the lesson went.  There wasn’t much progress by the end of it, as she had expected, but she assured her brother that she had been the same. For not the first time, she thanked the fact that she hadn’t left Hadrian to the tender mercies of Professor Snape’s one-on-one tutoring. He was a hard taskmaster on any other day, but coupled with the fact that they weren’t exactly on friendly terms, she didn’t think Rian would have survived.

“Okay, remember to finish reading the book I lent you.” She glanced at the tome in question anxiously. It was irrational, she knew, but she was uneasy about leaving that in her brother’s care. It wasn’t like he was careless with his possessions – far from it, in fact – but she couldn’t help but feel no one but her could keep Professor Snape’s books safe enough.

“Relax, Heather,” her brother got out laughingly, “your Prince’s book will be fine for the week I have it. I’m not going to damage it or anything.”

She startled at those words, looking at her brother incredulously. “How did you know Professor Snape is the Half-Blood Prince?” She could have sworn that she hadn’t told anybody about that little fact.

“ _What_?!” three voices exclaimed in harmony. The world turned on its head as she was unceremoniously lifted and plopped onto a couch. Fred, George and Hadrian stood in front of her, with similar expressions of disbelief on their faces.

“Did you just _princess_ _carry_ me?” she sputtered.

“Never mind that!” George dismissed.

“Did you or did you not-” Fred began.

“-just say that Professor Snape-” George picked up.

“-doom and gloom of the dungeons-” Fred intoned ominously.

“-bane of Gryffindors everywhere-” George pronounced dramatically.

“-our _beloved_ Potions Professor-” they both said.

“-is your Half-Blood Prince, your crush?” Hadrian shouted.

Heather looked helplessly between the three boys. “Yes- wait, no! Ugh,” she groaned. “I mean, yes to the Prince, no to the crush!”

They looked at her sympathetically (since when had Hadrian learnt to match his expressions to theirs?). Fred patted her shoulder in gentle condescension. “Oh, little harp, _yes_ it’s a crush.”

“You sigh longingly when you read those books.”

“You stroke those spines lovingly like they’re your firstborn child.”

“Every other conversation with you mentions your darling Prince.”

Unnecessarily, Hadrian added, “I saw you cuddle one of those books to sleep.”

She shot her flesh-and-blood a betrayed look. “I fell asleep while studying!”

Rian gave her a sceptical look. “Sure you did. Studying a book for the quadrillionth time does that to a person.”

“Admit it Heather-”

“-you’re infatuated with-”

“-your Prince.”

Heather shook her head stubbornly, refusing to believe that she had fallen for a person she had only known through the words on a page. Weren’t crushes supposed to be on handsome men with cute smiles and muscly arms or something?

She had a brief flashback to that night in the Chamber of Secrets. Deceivingly lean arms with corded muscle working against a tightly-shut basilisk’s jaw. She shook her head to dispel the images.

The knowing looks on the boys’ faces told her that she hadn’t fooled any of them. “So what if I have an, an _admiration_ for the Half-Blood Prince? It’s just his sharp wit and intelligence I like. It doesn’t mean I’m attracted to him.”

Fred and George put a hand on their hearts, swooning melodramatically. “Oh Heather, our young innocent flower.”

“Attraction doesn’t necessarily mean looks, you know.”

“You can be attracted to his personality, his smarts and humour.”

“You even said you loved his handwriting, once.”

In the privacy of her own mind, she reluctantly acknowledged that perhaps she might probably have the _slightest_ chance of having a crush on her Prince. Then she remembered who they were talking about.

“You guys realise you’re trying to convince me I have a cru-crush on Professor Snape, don’t you?” she stated, stuttering slightly. The words made her heart beat faster, brought heat to her cheeks. She looked away self-consciously, cursing her own body’s betrayal. That didn’t mean anything.

_It didn’t._

The three finally fell silent, which Heather took as her winning this argument. She was right, she couldn’t, _didn’t_ have a crush on Professor Snape. Unbeknownst to her, of course, were the looks of dawning realisation shared by Fred, George and Hadrian.

‘Of course, that explains _everything_ ,’ Hadrian thought to himself. It was a thought common in all three of their minds.

“How _did_ you know about the Prince anyway?” his sister asked abruptly. He saw it as the diversion it was, but took the bait anyway. Heather had had enough of an interrogation for now.

“I didn’t. _You_ were the one who just told me. All I said was that I would keep your Prince’s book safe.” He indicated the book on mind magic a slight distance from them.

“But that’s Professor Snape’s book. I mean, I didn’t even know he was the Prince when he gave it to me.” She looked at him with adorable cluelessness. He chuckled. That wasn’t a look he ever thought he’d apply to her. His sister had just always seemed to know everything and anything. Figured she would be ignorant only when it came to her personal relationships.

“Well, it doesn’t say ‘Property of the Half-Blood Prince’, but those comments in there are clearly by him.” He went to pick it up, flipping to a random page. _“Whichever idiot wrote this is clearly inept, far more than I had expected. It is not clear to me why any respectable publisher would print the words of a man who believes that Occlumency can be augmented by drinking an infusion of lavender. All that would achieve is a soporific effect, which would leave the blithering fool more vulnerable to mental invasion.”_

Hadrian raised a brow at looked at his sister pointedly. “Tell me that doesn’t sound like your Prince.”

To his amusement, Heather pouted in annoyance. “It didn’t occur to me, okay? The only reason I know is because he explicitly told me.” She waved her hands. “Anyway, it’s almost curfew. I gotta go. Remember your exercises!” She bid a hasty farewell as she ran out like a cerberus was after her.

Hadrian turned to his sister’s two best friends, frowning in concern. “You two saw how she reacted right? It wasn’t just me?”

“Oh please, there was-”

“-no mistaking _that_.”

“She was surprisingly obvious-”

“-being a Slytherin and all.”

He groaned. “Why Snape, of all people? She has at least a quarter of the school after her. Why not that nice Ravenclaw? Heck, why not any _student?_ ” They all sighed in commiseration at the impossible witch. She never made it easy.

~~~

“Before we get started today, I need to give you all something,” Heather announced. She rummaged in her bag and pulled out a handful of Galleons, or what seemed like them. She handed one to each of her students in the Beginner group of the DA. The group had actually gotten slightly smaller, with a few prodigious students moving up to the main group. Now she had about a little over ten students under her tutelage.

“Okay, this isn’t a real Galleon, so don’t go spending it! This is something we came up with to help better organise DA meetings.” She held her own up and pointed to a string of numbers on the edge of the coin. “See this? This shows the date and time of the next meeting, so please don’t lose it.”

The idea had actually been Hermione’s after she realised they couldn’t keep a regular schedule of meetings lest they get caught. Fred and George had worked with the younger girl over the Yule Break to produce the fake coins, which had actually been simpler than it sounded. It was mostly just a Protean Charm with some additional spells added for security. Which reminded her…

“I would also like to request that you each place a drop of your blood on the coin so that only you will be able to see the numbers on your own coin. That means no sharing or swapping, or you’ll only see a random string of digits.” After making sure each of them did as she said, she moved on to start the lesson.

“Okay, we’ll continue working on shield charms today. I know for a fact that the older group will be working on something very exciting later in the session, so if you can show me that you’re proficient enough in the four shields I showed you before, you can go watch them.” The firsties perked up at the news, eager to begin.

Heather got them to pair up and take turns defending and attacking. They were doing better than the previous DA meeting, showing that they had practiced in their own time. Heather watched over them proudly as they pulled off spells that were years too advanced for their age group. It was true that the spells were weaker than they should be, but that was normal for their current magic levels. As the children grew, so would their magic. What was important was that they could cast the spells at all. When they had enough magic they could put more power into the spells.

To test them, she had them line up for her to cast spells at. Obviously, she didn’t cast anything harmful, just a Colour Changing Charm or Hiccuping Jinx. She did, however, make sure to put a decent amount of magic behind her spells to see how strong the shields were. She also tried to surprise them by throwing the spells when they didn’t seem to expect them. She noticed that Inggrid Siles and Derrick Bole needed to work on their reflexes a bit more, since they couldn’t erect their shields in time when she sprang her surprise attacks. Their shields were pretty solid, though.

Eventually, Heather was satisfied with their work and allowed them to go over to the other side to watch the other group. They all cheered enthusiastically at the declaration, eager to find out what was happening.

With a quick flick of her wand, she brought down the partition splitting the room in two. Her students were in for a treat; Hadrian would be teaching the Patronus Charm soon. Besides the mental discipline needed to focus on the positive memory, the spell was rather magic-intensive, so it was highly unlikely that the first years or even second and third years would be able to learn it. However, she wouldn’t stop them from trying.

It appeared that they were just in time. She and her students walked over to the larger group just as Hadrian raised his wand to demonstrate the difficult spell. A long white snake burst out of the tip of his holly wand, slithering in the air to check for any danger before draping itself over his shoulders. He looked comically dwarfed by the giant reptile.

Yeah, _that_ had gotten her quite some teasing. Her snidget looked even tinier when compared to Hadrian’s snake. It wasn’t even the size of the other’s head!

The other students who had probably never seen a Patronus before flinched back when the snake had shot towards them. Some of them even had looks of fear as they eyed its sharp fangs. They probably didn’t know that Patroni weren’t tangible. On the whole, though, they looked suitably impressed.

Once Hadrian had dispelled the wispy snake, he spoke again. “So that was a Patronus. The spell is quite advanced, and even if you manage to cast it today, it will probably just come out as a puff of white smoke. Don’t worry if you don’t get anything though. I took four months before I could get there. Most adult wizards can’t even manage that.”

“So why are we learning the spell? Seems an awful waste of time if it can’t even be used to attack,” one of the Hufflepuffs asked.

“You all know about the Azkaban breakouts right?” The students nodded grimly. “I bet you Voldemort has some sort of agreement with the dementors. How else would he have been able to get past them without alerting any of the guards?”

The same student frowned stubbornly. “You’re just guessing. He could’ve found some other way to beat back the Dementors.”

Heather rolled her eyes at the obstinate boy. She stepped up, to address him, seeing as she had been the one to suggest Patronus lessons in the first place. “The _only_ way to drive a dementor away is using a Patronus. They aren’t susceptible to other spells and you can’t kill one.” She held up a hand when he tried to speak again. “I know what you’re going to say, but I can assure you, Voldemort did _not_ use the Patronus. He _can’t_. Most Dark wizards can’t. It is said that only those pure of heart can use the spell. Raczidian the Terrible, a Dark Lord, tried once and maggots shot out of his wand to devour him.”

Exclamations of disgust met her offhand statement, but at least the Hufflepuff had finally backed off. One of the Slytherin first years raised her hand to ask a question. Still feeling odd to be treated like a Professor despite actually teaching them for weeks now, she gestured for the girl to go ahead.

“Can _you_ cast the spell, Heather?”

Standing nearby, Heather’s year mate, Melinda Davies, snorted delicately. “Can _she_ cast it? Too bad you weren’t in school yet. You would have been amazed. There we were, ickle fifth years, watching in horror as a whole _hoard_ of dementors swarmed the Quidditch Pitch during a match. You could tell all the teachers were panicking. Then, this little midget,” she motioned to Heather, “stands and produces the tiniest little ball of light. I thought to myself, ‘what is she doing, casting a _Lumos_ of all things’, before the light shoots off and drives about twenty dementors away at one go.”

Adrian Pucey laughed. “Oh, I remember that. I was sitting just two seats away from her at the time. I don’t think anyone outside of Slytherin saw it happen – too busy watching that train wreck in the air. But saw we did, and we were all staring at her even as she ran down to the pitch to check on her brother.”

At this point, most of the DA were looking at her in awe. Heather shifted uncomfortably, glaring at the two Prefects. She cleared her throat, not knowing what to say.

“Can you show us?” someone asked loudly. That started the wave of eager requests from the rest.

Sighing, she swished her wand and whispered the incantation. _“Expecto Patronum.”_ Her excitable little snidget zipped around the room, flying just above them before landing on her head. “You know, Fred and George can cast the spell. Hermione and Ron too,” she mentioned, trying to take the attention off of her. It was kind of disconcerting.

Fred, however, threw her under the Knight Bus. “All because Heather-harp-”

“-taught us all, including Hadrian,” George chimed.

“So we’re sure you’ll all get it in no time, with her here to instruct!”

She resisted the urge to groan when fifty pairs of eyes turned to look at her. At least they were all pumped up to learn now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr: [lunarlooroo](https://lunarlooroo.tumblr.com/)


	80. Worn Out

_It is imperative that the natural flow of magic in a potion be considered in the application of Stasis. The Boil Cure is a simple widdershins swirl while the Veritaserum is a complex network of interlocking figure eights…_

“Heather, could you help me with this?”

Heather’s head snapped up towards Anthony Pucey. “Sure,” she said, putting her book aside, “what don’t you get?”

“Why can’t ashwinder blood be used instead of salamander blood in Strengthening Solution? Their properties are mostly the same.”

“That’s because there is a certain substance in ashwinder blood that has a negative reaction with scorpion tails,” she replied immediately.

Frowning in confusion, Anthony looked down at his own book then back up again. “But there aren’t any scorpion tails used in the potion.”

“Huh?” Heather shook her head to clear it. “Oh, sorry, I meant scorpion claws.” She stifled a yawn and pointed towards the library shelves. “You can read more about it in Brouer’s potion guide. Ignore Foulle’s, it’s rubbish.”

“Okay, thanks!” The younger boy paused as he stood to get the suggested book and narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you alright Heather?”

“Heather,” someone called out, “I don’t understand this.”

Waving the boy’s concerns away, she said, “Yeah, fine.” She then turned to address the other person’s queries.

Several more students had questions to ask her after that, so she had no chance to get back to her own book. Well, that was fine. She could just stay up later to finish it up.

She was near a breakthrough in her research into the spellballs. She had recently thought about applying the concept of stasis spells used for potions. They weren’t often used as they were difficult to cast properly. Simple potions were easy enough, but they hardly required the spell anyway, seeing as they were quick to brew. Most delicate potions, on the other hand, had such complex flow of magic that applying the stasis properly would take considerable skill and experience. The caster needed to know where to apply the magic ‘blocks’ to freeze the potion at a certain state.

If she could just fine-tune her magic sensing to accurately detect the pattern of magic in spells, she was pretty sure she could use a modified stasis spell to suspend the spell in action and store it in an orb.

Besides this, she also had to keep up with her runic potions thesis, read more into mental links for Hadrian and reverse engineer the Marauder’s Map on top of her regular NEWTs work for 8 subjects. (She had dropped Divinations, Astronomy and History of Magic after her OWLs.)

Sure, she was feeling a tad tired, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. Three hours of sleep per night was perfectly sufficient. She just made sure to only brew during the morning or afternoon so that her drowsiness didn’t affect her. Potions accidents weren’t anything to laugh at, especially at the level she was brewing.

Heather just wished that she had more hours in a day. It just seemed like there was so much she needed to do in so little time. Voldemort was clearly moving forward with whatever plans he had, as shown by the recent prison breakout. Yet, it seemed like the Order of the Phoenix was just reactionary; trying to block whenever Voldemort made a move and not advancing on their own.

It was abundantly clear that if she wanted Hadrian safe from that mad man, the DA was her only recourse. This was why she was so manic about the research for the DA. The members were very skilled for students, but they were only precisely that – students. There was no guarantee that in a duel against actual Deatheaters, they would win. Hence the spellball and Maruader’s Map projects. She and FredGeorge had other nifty ideas in the works too.

A little bit of missed sleep was nothing when Hadrian’s safety was at stake.

~~~

“Oh come on, Heather! Don’t you want to go to Hogsmeade?” George cajoled.

Without looking up from her notes, Heather shook her head pointedly. “Got lots to do, Forge. If I need to buy something, I’ll get it by owl order.”

“ _Buy_ something?” Fred gasped, “Our dear harpy, Hogsmeade weekends aren’t simply about buying! It’s the escape from school, the freedom! Take in the beautiful sights and smells of the outside world!”

“Mmhmm. The tiny village that you get to go every few weeks during school term. Perhaps they even have a new colour of ink on sale. How exciting,” she deadpanned.

“How did she get to be such a dull girl, Gred?”

“I haven’t a clue, Forge.”

“I thought you two wanted to go to Hogsmeade.” Heather cast a little _Incendio_ , feeling for the magical currents in the spell. Hmm… They were like large upward pointing ‘v’ shapes. Quite similar to their wand movement, in fact. Perhaps that was a thought to consider. She quickly made a comment in her notes, underlining it boldly.

“Yeah, so why don’t you just put your quill down-” Fred said, snatching it away.

“-and we’ll be on our way!” George closed her book with a thud.

“Fred, George,” she tried to say patiently, “I’m not going. You two can go have fun, alright?”

“Heather,” they said in the same tone, “it’s Valentines’ Day.”

Fred grabbed her hands and pulled her up. “You can’t stay here casting spells-”

“-and muttering to yourself!” George exclaimed, forcing her into a twirl.

“Even your brother has a hot date.”

“That’s because he has a boyfriend!” she retorted, stepping out of the dizzying spins. “I don’t see _you_ two with girls on your arms. Or boys.”

They looked pointedly at their arms wrapped around her shoulders and waist. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Fred’s tone changed to a serious one. “Heather, you’ve been doing an awful lot of work recently. I haven’t seen you do anything fun for weeks now! You used brew something exciting at least once a week!”

“Didn’t you two see me brew the anti-Veritaserum potion yesterday?”

George shook his head. “You wanted to have some on hand in case of anything. You weren’t enjoying it. We don’t even know when brewing ever became a chore for you. You used to smile even when you needed to make Essence of Dittany for us, which we know you can do in your sleep.”

Heather frowned. “I was just a little tired. I needed to focus so I didn’t screw it up.” She had almost dropped some extra verbena into the cauldron, which would have caused lethal fumes to form. She had been quite wary of making any more mistakes after that. Her scowl was probably what they had seen. It had been such a basic mistake, after all.

“Precisely, Heather!”

“You’re tired!”

“You need to take a break!”

“I’m perfectly fine!” she snapped, annoyed. She didn’t need any more rest, damnit! “I would be even better if I could get on with my research, though!”

“You’re more likely to make mistakes when you’re tired anyway,” George said irately.

Fred held up his hands peaceably. “You don’t even have to go out. Why don’t you just take a nap on the couch?”

“For the last time, guys, I don’t need to rest!” They were really trying her patience. Here they were, harping at her to take a break, when they were wasting her precious time. All they were doing was delaying the time when she could rest. “You guys are being a nuisance!”

George’s eyes hardened, while Fred’s face fell. “Fine! Just work yourself into the ground for all we care!” George spat, dragging his brother out of the Den. Fred shot her a last concerned look before stumbling after his twin.

Heather fumed silently, sitting back down on her seat. A wave of vertigo hit her at the rapid movement and she had to grip the desk lest she fall out of her chair. She waited a few moments for it to pass before rubbing her eyes tiredly. Now that the two were gone, she could finally focus on her work.

They just couldn’t see that she _needed_ to do this. There was no time to be frolicking around in Hogsmeade or brewing fun potions or even _sleeping_.

The room swayed a little, or was that her? She shook her head roughly and grabbed a phial from her bag. Unstoppering it, she downed it whole, ignoring the horrid taste. Little bolts of lightning shot out of her stomach, causing her whole body to tingle. The sensation eventually faded, but the energy it brought would last her a good five hours. Unfortunately, she would feel exhausted without at least 6 hours of sleep after that, which she was obviously not going to get. She was also not idiotic enough to take Rejuvenation Potions back-to-back. Luckily for her, all she was doing later was finishing her homework. She knew all the content already anyway.

~~~

A hand on her shoulder caused her to jerk to attention. She shook her head lightly to clear the fog of exhaustion from her mind. Right, she was in the Great Hall, having breakfast. Or she had been before she dozed off, of course. She couldn't believe she had been so tired that she'd let someone sneak up behind her like that. Hopefully no one else had noticed her brief period of weakness.

"Heather, you alright there?"

She stifled a groan. Great. It was her brother. Putting on a smile, she turned around. "Morning Hadrian! What do you mean? I'm perfectly fine!"

The sceptical look sent her way made her curse inwardly.

"Right, and that wasn't you almost falling asleep in your plate of eggs."

"Just a little drowsy this morning is all. Slept a bit later than I should have last night. No problem," she lied casually. No need for Hadrian to start worrying about her as well. She thought guiltily of the way she had snapped at Fred and George a few days ago. They had only been concerned for her welfare. Perhaps she should apologise to them later.

Hadrian crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at her. "Really? 'Cos Fred and George told me something _very_ interesting last night."

All guilty feelings flew out the window when she heard that. She shot a quick glare at the twin menaces over at their table. When they caught it, George made a face at her while Fred shook his head helplessly. Her annoyance racked up a notch. Involving Hadrian was a cheap shot and they knew it. Her brother was bound to fret over her even though she was just the slightest bit tired. And she could never say no to him.

"Heather, are you listening?" She turned her attention back to her brother. "You really should take better care of yourself. Didn’t Hermione volunteer to do some of your work too? You don't have to handle everything on your own."

"I'm fine, Hadrian," she sighed. "Whatever Fred and George told you, they were exaggerating. You know how they are."

"Not when it comes to the important things. And I can see what they were talking about. I'm pretty sure you have a glamour on right now."

Damn it! Hadrian could sense spells as well as she could.  She had taught him, after all. She hadn't even considered that little fact. "Okay, so I have a few pimples I want to cover up. Let a witch have some vanity."

Her brother's face scrunched up. "You don't have to lie to me, you know. I'm not stupid."

"I'm not saying you are!" she burst out. The loudness of that abruptly reminded her of where they were. She could feel the curious gazes of the other students boring into them. Letting out an explosive breath, she grabbed her brother's hand and tugged him out of the hall.

Once in a more secluded area, she tried to reassure her brother again to no avail. A sudden rush of people coming out of the doors signalled the time.

"Look, Hadrian. Class is starting soon. I have to go." Without waiting for an answer, she turned and strode towards the dungeons quickly. She had Double Potions coming up.

"Heather, wait!" her brother shouted.

She pretended not to hear.

~~~

"Hmm, I wonder if Miss Potter is feeling alright."

Minerva's musing immediately grasped his attention. As did any other mention of Heather in these days did. He subtly glanced towards the witch in question, wondering what the old cat was talking about. To his surprise and worry, he found Heather nodding off at the breakfast table, spoonful of eggs half-lifted.

He could count on one hand that number of times he had seen Heather dozing, all of them occurring in the span of the previous month. She was one of the most conscientious students he knew. No teacher had ever complained of her giving them trouble in class before. Yet, just last week, Filius had mentioned that she had had her eyes half-lidded through the entire class.

It was immensely worrying and it was technically his duty as Slytherin Head to find out what was wrong. Despite that, he also couldn't allow himself to show his concern because of the other duty he had as a spy in the Dark Lord's camp.

Perhaps it would be better if he had Minerva or even Pomona ask after her. It was the obvious choice, loathe as he was to consider it. Something told him, however, that it would reveal nothing. Heather was as tight-lipped as any other Slytherin, maybe even more so than most.

Because he was keeping his eye on her, he noticed when her brother walked up to her. He was about to look away from the conversation when their voices started getting louder. Now _that_ was severely out of character for her, given her private nature. She wasn't one to broadcast any trouble she had, especially not with her brother.

What surprised him further was the livid glower she sent her two sidekicks, one of whom seemed to return the sentiment. They seemed to have had a falling out. So even Heather could fall prey to simple adolescent problems like that.

"I'm not saying you are!" she exclaimed. The volume of her statement carried all the way even to the Head Table, such that he could clearly hear every word.

Heather seemed to finally realise the very public location she was having this discussion in and dragged her brother out of the Hall. Minerva gave him a meaningful look over her cup of tea, as if he could do anything about the situation.

"Why look at me, Minerva? It seems like more a problem with your Lions. Namely, the twin miscreants and Potter Jr," he sneered.

"You know very well that there has been something going on with Miss Potter for a while now.” Minerva sniffed. “The poor girl has been running on her last leg this past week. She’s just too stubborn to admit it.”

He grunted under the weight of her expectant stare. “I will see what I can do,” he relented. He had a class with the seventh years next. He would just get her to stay behind after that under the guise of making her clean the lab up.

When he arrived at his classroom, he saw that Heather was the only student inside. That was not unusual, since there was still 20 minutes until the lesson officially began. Sitting at his desk, he surreptitiously observed her. Her face certainly gave nothing away, and he knew that to the less observant, she appeared as energetic as ever. To his keen eyes, however, she looked worn out. It was in her posture, the slight slump of her shoulders, the hunch of her neck. Despite the bright-eyed look she sported, he knew she was beyond exhausted. So much so that he suspected a glamour, since she looked preternaturally fresh-faced for one as sleep-deprived he suspected she was.

However, he could little about that at the moment, seeing as the first trickles of students had begun strolling in. He could tell how dedicated a student was to the subject by the time of their arrival to class. Inevitably, the Ravenclaws would be among the earliest to his lessons, followed by the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs. Gryffindors were the bulk of his latecomers. Of course, there were exceptions. The Weasley twins usually came early because of Heather. Not today, it seemed, due to their apparent fight. In fact, there the two redheads were right now. It was odd seeing Heather completely ignore them when they walked in. One of the twins had the same reaction, though the other (he believed it was the elder, whom he suspected was more level-headed) spared her a worried look.

He brushed aside the entire conundrum to focus on the lesson. They would be brewing Erumpent Potion today. It was mostly used as a fertiliser for certain delicate plants, but it was extremely difficult to handle and brew. Not only was the completed potion highly explosive if touched by humans, it was also as volatile during every stage of brewing. One slight misstep and it could destroy the whole room. There was a reason why he only accepted Outstanding OWLs into his NEWT class.

He charmed a piece of chalk to write out the recipe on the blackboard as he gave his students the instructions. Just for today, he allowed them to pair up to complete the potion, owing to the difficulty of this particular brew. However, as the class had an odd number of students, one of them would have to complete it on their own. This student would typically be Heather, since she was the most competent student in the class. However, Severus had his doubts on this day on whether he should leave her to her own devices. She looked far from her peak form and was liable to hurt not only herself but everyone in a 30-foot radius of her. Unfortunately, he could not assign her a partner without drawing attention from the Slytherins in his class. There was at least one student in the room that he knew for a fact reported all his movements back to his Deatheater father. He resigned himself to simply keeping a sharp eye on the witch.

The first half of the period passed without event, much to his relief. Heather seemed alert enough to brew without hindrance. Surprisingly, the rest of the class had little problem with the potion as well. That could be due to their wary handling of the entire process. It seemed Severus' warnings at the beginning of class had sunk through their thick skulls. He had only needed to step in once when Turner had almost dropped in one too many phosphate crystals.

He stopped to peer into a cauldron shared by a pair of Hufflepuffs, noting irately that the potion was much too opaque. Catching the eyes of the intimidated girls, he gestured pointedly to the aloe cubes they had forgotten to add. Fortunately, it wasn't a major mistake and could easily be fixed by mincing and adding them before the penultimate step.

Finished with his inspection, he spared a cursory glance towards Heather again and promptly went into cardiac arrest. His mind processed the image rapidly, seeing her outstretched hand holding the powdered erumpent horn over her cauldron full of ash-coloured potion. Adding the material at this stage of brewing would only end up in an explosion, no matter what modifications she might or might not have made.

He fought the urge to shout, knowing it would only startle her into dropping the powder into the potion. To his panic, he was not quick enough to even raise his wand and he could only watch, horrified, as the powder fell into the cauldron.

Heather seemed to realise what she had done as soon as she did it. Her eyes widened in terror and she raised her arms in front of her as if to protect herself. As if that would do any good. The whole room would be obliterated in seconds.

It turned out that he was wrong, however. Her arms shot out not to shield herself, but to cast a blindingly bright spell. The spell encased the cauldron, just as he saw the explosion rise. A deafening blast of sound echoed around the room, accompanying the supernova encased in the dome Heather had thrown up. Once the shield had dispersed, the area which it occupied was barely char and cinders.

Belatedly, he shouted at everyone to continue with their potions lest the same thing happen another 9 times. He could tell that everyone was unnerved by the near-miss. If they were careful with their potions before, they were absolutely paranoid now. Every single movement they made was projected and deliberate.

Storming up to the moronic wench, he prepared to tear into her for her carelessness. Before he could do so, however, she swayed distressingly on her feet and collapsed in a dead faint. Movement from the Weasley twins out of the corner of his eye had him rounding on them and warning them off. Thankfully, they were not foolhardy enough to risk another explosion in favour of rushing to their friend's aid.

Affecting severe annoyance and disgust at having to deal with Heather, he ordered his class to continue with their potions. It had hardly been necessary, seeing as they had proof of what would happen should they make a mistake. With an exaggerated scowl – which was not difficult to form, considering the extreme danger Heather had been in – he levitated her and made his way to the infirmary.

Unconscious like this, dark bags appeared under Heather’s eyes and her previously healthy complexion paled dramatically. He clicked his tongue irritably at the sight. His theory of a glamour had just been confirmed. Just _what_ had Heather been up to?

He would definitely be having a talk with her as soon as she woke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr: [lunarlooroo](https://lunarlooroo.tumblr.com/)


	81. Apologies and Punishment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update everyone! I've been super busy with studying for exams. Ugh, can't wait for them to be overrrr.
> 
> Here's the new chapter. The next one will hopefully come out in two weeks or so, if I can find the time.
> 
> Thanks to everyone for being patient, hope you enjoy reading!

Heather floated weightlessly in nothingness. Her mind was blessedly blank for once. She wasn't sure what she was doing, or even where she was. On that threshold between unconsciousness and wakefulness, she savoured the absolute state of relaxation. When was the last time she had felt so rested?

A sharp bolt of electricity shot through her senses, overwhelming her until she had no choice but to surface. She reluctantly let go of the darkness, lifting her heavy eyelids. Now that she was halfway awake, she could feel that the unpleasant sensation started from her neck and spread outward to her limbs. Grimacing, she instinctively sat up and summoned her wand. Without even taking note of her surroundings, she moved her wand in a circular motion, chanting, " _Amato Animo Animato Animagus_ ," as she had done every morning for the past few months. That done, she gave a lazy flick to cancel the charm causing the lightning bolts of shock and flopped back onto the bed.

She had set the alarm spell on her necklace a few weeks ago, worried that she would be too tired to wake before sunrise every morning to chant the animagus spell. Wouldn't want months of effort to be wasted in a moment of fatigue.

Speaking of which, she stifled a yawn. Her eyes finally adjusted to the darkness of the room. To her shock, she wasn't in her dorm room. Her gaze darted about. She realised that she was in the infirmary. What happened? She wracked her brain for an answer, cursing her drowsiness for slowing her mind.

Just then, the door opened, drawing her attention. Who could that be at this early hour? She had set her alarm for an hour before sunrise. Madam Pomfrey, perhaps? She quickly sat up again, not wanting to be in such a vulnerable position in the presence of a possible stranger.

Once she recognised the visitor, she relaxed.

"What do you think you are doing Potter?" the deep voice demanded. They both looked at the wand held in her hand.

She chuckled sheepishly. "Nothing?" she lilted. She quickly put her wand away. "You're up early, Professor Snape."

The man narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "That had better not been you trying to cast spells after fainting from exhaustion you foolish girl."

"What?" she exclaimed, eyes widening in surprise. "Fainting from exhaustion?"

"Do you not remember what happened yesterday morning?" His voice held a tinge of worry, though she was sure he would sooner hug Sirius than admit it.

Heather tilted her head thoughtfully. Yesterday morning... The last she recalled was arguing with Hadrian in the Great Hall, then going for Potions class... She gasped. The Erumpent Potion. Putting the powdered horn too early. Groaning, she buried her head in her hands. What a dumb mistake! "You idiot," she muttered under her breath. Snapping her head back up, she asked, "Was anyone hurt? I think I tried to put up a shield..." If anyone had gotten injured because of her, she would never forgive herself.

Professor Snape scowled, saying, "You were able to erect the shield in time, fortunately." He made a disgusted sound. "I did not think I would need to tell you this, but from your recent actions, I believe I shall have to. What you did was extremely irresponsible, you reckless, dunderheaded brat! What you did today could have killed everyone in the room! I would ask what you were thinking, but it is clear that you were not!"

Heather looked down in shame, accepting the scolding. She knew she was to blame. Guilt ate at her. Erumpent horn was notoriously explosive. If she had been just a millisecond slower… She shuddered to think of the consequences.

"Well? An explanation for your idiocy is the least you could provide, after that disaster." She could hear the scorn in his words. She fought the urge to cringe.

She wished she could give him a good reason, at least, but she found none. "I tried to do too much in too little time. Fred and George and Hadrian tried to tell me to rest more, but I wouldn't listen. This is all my fault."

"Yes, it was." That statement was said so casually, so matter-of-factly that this time she _did_ cringe.

"I know.” She finally looked up. She still felt ashamed, but she had to look him in the eye for this. "I am very sorry for what I did, Professor. I endangered everyone because I recklessly thought I could brew even when I was fighting exhaustion and about to collapse. I accept any punishment that you deem fit." She bowed her head in apology and clenched her fingers in the starched bedsheets.

There was a drawn-out moment of silence after she spoke, in which she was pushed down the urge to fidget nervously. The Potions Master was obviously furious with her. Every good potioneer knew the dangers of brewing when not in full possession of their mental faculties. In fact, that had been one of his very first lectures in first year.

She heard him sigh in irritation. “Look up, you imbecilic girl.” Meekly, she lifted her head. “Are you certain you are not facing any problems? It has been brought to my attention that you have not been in the best of conditions as of late. Even the _Gryffindors_ have noticed. I know for a fact that you have been employing the use of a glamour to hide your exhaustion.”

Stunned, Heather looked closer at the man. The set of his mouth gave off a distinctly awkward air. He was actually _fretting_ over her. Despite herself, warmth filled her chest at the thought, causing her to smile.

“What are you smiling at!” he growled. Oops.

“Nothing, sir,” she replied, covering her mouth with a hand when her attempt to school her expression failed. Her lips weren’t obeying her. “I really _was_ just overworking myself. Don’t worry, it wasn’t nightmares that were keeping me awake.” Her nightmares were few and far between, now that she had more or less mastered Occlumency.

He scrutinised her closely with his penetrating gaze, as if to catch her out on a lie. If she didn’t know any better, she would think he was Legilimising her. But, no, her shields were holding firm. Still, the gaze felt like a physical caress, so heavy it was. Through no conscious effort on her part, she leaned forward towards him. The atmosphere felt strange, with both of them so close in the dimly-lit room. And when had he moved so near?

The moment was shattered when the Professor abruptly cleared his throat and stepped backward almost hastily. Oddly enough, she felt let down by the sudden distance.

“Well,” the Professor said. His voice had, for some reason, taken a slightly hoarser rasp. It drew her out of her musings. “I expect that this will not be repeated?”

Heather shook her head emphatically. “Never again, sir. I’ve learnt my lesson.” And what a hard lesson it was.

“See to it,” he ordered curtly. With a final nod in her direction, he swept out of the room. She might have just been imagining things, but it seemed like he was in a hurry.

~~~

When Heather opened her eyes next, it was to bright rays of light. She absentmindedly cast a _Tempus_ , noting that it was breakfast time. She wondered if Madam Pomfrey would let her attend classes today. She had spent almost 20 hours out cold, after all. She reckoned that she had had enough rest in that time. In fact, she felt better than she had in weeks. Her mind was clearer and she didn’t feel like she would nod off at any given moment. She had truly been such an idiot, putting off rest for so long.

Just then, the Mediwitch came out of her office door. “Ahh, good you’re awake.” She approached her, casting a general diagnostic. Nodding grimly at whatever results she had gotten, Madam Pomfrey shot a chiding look at Heather.

Heather shrunk back into the bedding, preparing herself for the dressing-down that was sure to follow. True enough, the matron tore her a new one for not taking better care of herself and being generally foolish and idiotic. It wasn’t anything that she hadn’t told herself since waking from her semi-coma, but the older witch just had a flair for saying things in a way that made someone feel a hundred times smaller.

“I’ve a good mind to keep you in here just to sleep for another week!” Madam Pomfrey said to cap off her rant.

Widening her eyes pleadingly, Heather said, “I’m sorry! I’ll make sure to rest enough from now on! I promise! I’m really feeling much better now. Can you _please_ discharge me? I _have_ to attend classes, NEWT year, you know?” She even tilted her head apologetically for good measure.

The woman just sighed, shaking her head. “Fine! Goddess knows you’ll be insufferable otherwise. But you will have breakfast here so I can make sure you eat properly!”

Heather cheered, accepting the condition. She hadn’t expected to make it for breakfast in the Great Hall anyway. As she dug into her wholesome and Mediwitch-approved breakfast of oatmeal and yogurt, the infirmary door opened to admit several people. Curiously, she looked up.

Then immediately shut the curtains around her bed.

“Heaatheerr,” twin voices chimed mockingly. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

“Olly olly oxen free,” she muttered lowly.

The curtains were drawn back. Damn, must have been Hadrian that broke her abrupt wandless locking charm.

“Looks like sleeping beauty’s finally up, Forge!”

“Do you think it was her Prince that did it with a kiss, Gred?”

As one of the few who knew who the Half-Blood Prince was, her brother looked distinctly unamused at the implication. Heather herself was battling a blush at that.

“How are you feeling, Heather?” Hermione asked, ignoring the others.

“All better now. Madam Pomfrey said I could leave after breakfast.” She pointedly put a spoonful of mushy oats into her mouth.

“Are you sure?” Hadrian asked worriedly. “You were only in here for a day. Maybe you should take it easy.”

“I’m fine, Rian,” she assured him. “I was asleep for the past 20 hours. Pretty sure I’m all rested. Besides, do you think Madam Pomfrey would let me step out of her infirmary even the slightest bit unwell?”

Looking at all the people in this room that were concerned for her, she felt another spasm of guilt. She had been such an idiot.

“Fred, George, Hadrian. I’m really sorry for what I said to you three before. You guys were right. I was running myself into the ground. I should have listened to you.” Heather looked down at the dregs of her oatmeal, fiddling with her spoon.

A hand on her shoulder had her looking up into similar-yet-different green eyes. She peered to the side where her two best friends were smiling faintly.

Gently, her brother said, “Apology accepted, Heather.” Then his tone changed drastically, “Just know that if you pull this stunt again, you won’t be let off that easy.” The hand on her shoulder squeezed threateningly the let go when she nodded quickly.

Then, Fred and George stepped forward. She braced herself for another admonishment.

“We just-”

“-wanna say-”

“-WE TOLD YOU SO!” they shouted together. She jerked back at the sudden volume.

“Fred and George Weasley!” Madam Pomfrey rebuked from inside her office.

“Sorry Madam Pomfrey,” they chimed insincerely.

Heather had a hand resting over her pounding heart. She had _not_ expected the two to shove their faces up close and shout. Shaking her head, she smiled wryly to herself. That was the least she deserved for being such a troll to them.

She looked up and caught their gazes, asking a question with her eyes.

_‘Are we okay?’_

Heather smiled and ducked her head, grateful for the answer she found in the blue depths.

_‘You won’t get rid of us that easy.’_

It was later that she found out that news of the incident had spread to the whole school. True to form, the story had gotten wilder with every pass by word-of-mouth. Everyone and their crup were talking about it. Wild theories of the incident ranged from it being the work of a jealous classmate to a murder attempt by Professor Snape.

Heather also made it a point to apologise to each of her classmates. Thankfully, none of them held any grudges over the incident. Tabitha Flickwish of Hufflepuff had even said that her accident had made them even more careful of their own potion. To which the rest then thanked Heather for their O grade for that day. That was one silver lining, she supposed.

At any rate, she was just glad that she had gotten off so easy. She had expected a few months’ detention from Professor Snape for her stunt. Not that she would have begrudged him that. She knew well how much she deserved it. She was just lucky that the Professor had such a soft spot for Slytherins.

Oddly, Hadrian had snorted loudly when she’d said that.

~~~

However, it appeared that the capricious Potter luck had turned around once again.

Heather had been escorting her usual group of Slytherins to a DA meeting when a tiny mishap with a startled second year and a misfired _Relashio_ caused them to be behind schedule. Ahh, her little wand-happy students… Not exactly helpful in this particular scenario, but she was _so_ proud.

Anyway, now their lateness resulted in them almost running headfirst into a patrolling teacher. And not just _any_ teacher, but the toady Umbitch herself. It was only her magic-sensing skills that saved them from turning the corner and right into the pest’s line of sight.

Heather had to think fast. There was only her and a bunch of first years in the group (the other seventh years had gone on ahead with their own handful of students). She quickly cast a disillusionment over the kids, whispering for them to go ahead when she gave the signal.

Well, here went nothing.

She ran out, smacking right into Umbitch. She shuddered inwardly, hoping her ducklings knew the sacrifice she had just given to save them. She felt gross after just that brief moment of contact with the detestable woman.

Heather wandlessly cast a Notice-Me-Now charm on herself. It was actually what the modern Notice-Me-Not had been derived from, though it had fallen out of use in preference of the more useful variation. People used to cast the Notice-Me-Now on a large object in the area so that passers-by would be so absorbed in it that they wouldn’t notice the casters themselves. She was now using it in conjunction with the disillusionment as insurance that her little firsties wouldn’t be caught.

Her quick hand gesture for the spell had been noted by students. They quietly snuck around Umbitch as Heather distracted her. Thank Merlin they were snakes and not lions, or they’d probably have tried to make a run for it – and wake the whole castle in the process.

Well, she wasn’t much worried about them right now. Even if they _did_ get caught after this, any other teacher would probably just send them back to bed without much more than a slap to the wrist.

“Miss Potter!” Umbitch’s shrill voice shrieked.

“Professor Umbi-bridge!” Heather stuttered, catching herself. Lucky for her it would probably be interpreted as anxiousness at being caught. Though she was eager to find out how the toad would react if she _hadn’t_ restrained her tongue.

Well, looked like she wouldn’t be escaping detention after all.

~~~

Fred and George congratulated her for ‘finally coming to the Dark side’ the next morning, having heard the story from her ducklings. This, of course, prompted many a terrified look from people nearby. (Really, some of them were just idiots.) They had somehow gotten the elves to make her a cake that said ‘Baby’s First Detention’ in white frosting.

Right now, Heather was headed for her first detention with the horrid woman. She was actually pretty curious about how it would go. From the stories she had heard from Hadrian and her friends over the years, it could range from writing lines to scrubbing cauldrons. She wondered which Umbitch would employ as punishment.

“Heather!” A hand grabbed her arm and turned her around. She found herself looking at the flushed and panicked face of her brother.

“Hadrian?” she asked, alarmed, “What’s the matter?”

“Is it true that you’ve detention with Umbridge?”

“Yes?” She watched, worried, as Hadrian’s complexion abruptly paled. “Are you okay?” She put a hand on his forehead, unlikely as it was that he had a fever. She couldn’t ever recall an instance of him getting sick before. It was pretty well-established that magical power was proportional to the body’s immunity against illnesses.

“I’m fine, it’s just…” Hadrian trailed off. He bit his lip savagely, clearly hesitant to speak. “Just don’t go, alright? Skip the detention.”

Heather huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, right. I can’t just not go. The _High Inquisitor_ ,” she sneered, “demanded my presence. Anyway, don’t worry about me. Look, I’ve got to go or I’ll be late. See you later!”

“But-”

Heather went off before he could continue. The conversation had really delayed her. Now she had to run a bit so that she could arrive on time. It was cute that Rian was trying to protect her, but, really, his intentions were misplaced. Sure, this was going to be her first detention, but the only thing she was at risk of was probably a cramp in her hand from writing too many lines.

If only she knew how right that statement was.

~~~

“Come in, dear.”

Heather hid her distaste at the sugary-sweet voice that bade her entry. Her resolve was sorely tested when the sight of Umbridge’s office assaulted her poor retinas. This was the first time she had entered her office, and she was already sick of it. The amount of pink in the room had to be illegal somewhere. She fixed her gaze on the brown desk in the centre of the room to save her own sanity.

“Ahh, Miss Potter. Good to see that, unlike your brother, you understand the meaning of punctuality.” The woman smiled sharply, eyes flashing with superiority.

Fuming inwardly, Heather nonetheless ignored the obvious baiting and stood silently. Once Umbridge had realised that she would not be so easy to taunt, she narrowed her eyes.

“Sit! You will be writing lines.”

Heather wordlessly glided into the chair, for all the world seeming totally unbothered. The toad-like witch seemed to take offence to that, gritting her teeth in anger. A few moments later, however, she smirked smugly.

“You will write _‘I must not sneak around like a little thief’_ ,” Umbridge said with relish, seeming satisfied by her own wit.

With effort, Heather contained her eyeroll and reached into her satchel for a quill and ink. Parchment had already been provided on the desk.

Loud tutting halted her movements. “Ah ah. You will use this quill.” Umbridge handed her a plain black quill.

“And what about ink?” Heather asked. The distinct lack of ‘Professor’ seemed to go by unnoticed. Good, she didn’t want to be forced to address the foul woman respectfully any more than she had to.

“You won’t be needing it.”

That set alarms ringing in her mind. She wasn’t sure what was wrong, but she would look out for it. Taking the quill, she almost jolted at the slimy sensation that creeped up her arm from the point of contact. There was something sinister about the quill. It practically shrieked _bad news_ to someone like her who was more sensitive to magic than the average person.

Maintaining her cool, she asked, “How many lines should I write?”

“Oh, as many times as it takes for the message to be… _embedded_.” The cruel tittering that accompanied that sent shivers down Heather’s spine. Not that she was afraid of Umbridge, of all people. It was just nauseating to hear.

Well, there was nothing for it. Heather wanted to see what this was all about. Fighting her revulsion, she held the quill and began to write. She didn’t need to be looking to see that Umbridge was staring at her in anticipation.

_I must…_

The words came out in bright crimson. A tingling sensation started on the back of her hand. Almost unnoticeable, if she hadn’t been waiting for it.

_…not sneak…_

It grew into an itch, just this side of annoying. So that was it? Just a mild Irritant Hex? That didn’t make sense. The magic in the quill felt much darker than that.

_...around like a…_

The feeling got stronger still.

_...little thief_.

Suddenly, pain seared her hand, though she continued unwaveringly. She took care not to show any discomfort. Another completed line later, scratches began to form on her skin. An inkling of what might be happening came to her. A few more lines later, her suspicion was confirmed when the scratches formed words. Very familiar words.

_I must not sneak around like a little thief_.

The pain had steadily grown more intense with each passing scritch of the nib. Now, it felt like the quill was carving out the words into her flesh itself. It explained why the words were written in red, then. Of course, she didn’t let the pain show in her face. She had felt much worse before, after all.

All of a sudden, it hit her.

_This_ was why Hadrian had been so worried. He had had countless detentions with Umbridge. If this was what she did every session, then Hadrian must have suffered through this pain numerous times. Not to mention all the blood loss. She ran through her memories of the past few months, remembering how pale and tired Hadrian had been. Her mind rapidly connected the dots.

The Blood Replenisher Hermione had asked for.

All those phials of Murtlap Essence that had been requested.

How could she have been so blind! Fury built up steadily within her. _Hadrian_ had gone through this. There had been _first years_ among those affected.

Her head shot up as she speared the disgusting excuse for a witch with an outraged glare. She was pleased to see the toad flinch back a bit before attempting a smirk.

She had been mildly irked when she felt the effects of the quill, but realising that young children, _her brother,_ had been subject to the device was a different game altogether. _No one_ harmed her brother. Not if they wanted to go unscathed.

Her grip on the quill turned unforgiving, almost threatening to snap it in two. But, no. She didn’t put it past Umbitch to have several more stored for such cases. As much as she wanted to just torture the disgusting toad now, she knew that revenge was a dish best served cold. Besides, that was what Gryffindors did. She was a Slytherin. She already had an idea to get back at the wretch for her sins.

Heather was going to use the bitch’s own quill against her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: [lunarlooroo](https://lunarlooroo.tumblr.com/)


	82. The Boiling Toad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY EVERYONE! Guess who's finally done with her exams? It's been a rough time, but thank god they're all over! Really sorry to all of you who've been waiting on updates! Good news is, the posting schedule will be going back to every alternate saturday.
> 
> Thank you all for being so patient, and hope you enjoy the new chapter!

The first thing Heather did after detention was head straight for Gryffindor Tower. There was still an hour till curfew for seventh years and she needed to speak to her brother _right now_. That boy had some explaining to do.

Stood in front of the Fat Lady, she requested the portrait to call Hadrian out. A few moments later, the entrance to the Gryffindor common room swung open to reveal him.

“Hello there Hadrian,” Heather said sweetly, “how are you this evening?”

“Heather!” Her brother looked relieved to see her. She noticed that he couldn’t help but dart his gaze towards her blood-soaked hand. His jaw clenched angrily at the sight. “I knew it! That sodding bitch!”

Heather sighed and pulled her brother out of the entranceway. She could already hear the curious murmuring of his housemates. Once the portrait hole had shut behind him, she set up a privacy bubble around them.

“Ahh, so you _did_ know about what Umbridge was doing.”

Hadrian snorted. “Yeah, considering my thousand or so detentions with her, I reckon I did.”

Narrowing her eyes, she said lowly, “So why am I only finding out now that my brother has been having his flesh carved like a turkey since the year started?” Her eyes tracked the unconscious way he rubbed soothingly over his hand. She was slightly mollified to see no scarring in the area. At least her potions had done their job.

“Err, about that,” Hadrian trailed off nervously, hand coming up to rub the back of his head. “It was…no big deal?”

“You needed _Blood Replenisher_ Hadrian,” she forced out.

He groaned. “I didn’t want to worry you okay?”

“Hiding the whole thing doesn’t make things any better! Did you know she’s been giving the other students detentions too? _First years!”_ She waved her hands around wildly. “I had little firsties coming to me for potions to prevent scarring!” She could understand it if her brother didn’t want to go to the other Professors for help, but what about her? If Hadrian had come to her in the first place, then she could have tried to put a stop to it much earlier!

Guilt flashed in his eyes for a moment before he straightened defiantly. “Well, what could _you_ have done? You’ve been half-dead the better part of the term! Or have you forgotten your stay in the infirmary already?”

Heather jerked back, stung. “I said I was sorry! I know it was wrong to try and do everything on my own. In fact, _you_ were one of the people who told me that! Why did you even continue provoking Umbridge anyway?” she demanded. “You should have kept your head low and avoided notice!”

“I couldn’t just sit there while she spouted such lies! I was _there._ Voldemort almost killed me and Cedric! You want me to just listen to her nonsense?” He shook his head roughly. “No way!”

She made a frustrated noise. “I can’t believe you! You’re being so reckless, and ill-thought, and brash, and-and,” she tried to find an apt description, “ _Gryffindor_!”

“Well, hate to break it to you, Heather, but I _am_ aGryffindor. Not all of us can be sly and cunning _Slytherins_ ,” he sneered, “now can we?” Heather made to protest, but it was clear that her brother wasn’t done.

“You really think I’m incompetent, don’t you?” Hadrian scoffed. “I can’t do _anything_ without you trying to stick your nose in.”

“I’m just trying to help you!” she protested, reaching her hand out to her brother. Her heart gave a painful jolt when he immediately shrugged her off.

“ _Help me?_ Merlin, you’d think I was a helpless toddler, the way you hover. Just because you’re my sister doesn’t give you the right to interfere with everything I do and say. Newsflash, Heather, I’m perfectly capable of fighting my _own_ battles, so why don’t you just mind your own business and _leave_. _Me_. _Alone_!” With that, he turned and stomped through the portrait-hole, leaving her standing in the middle of the corridor.

Heather stood in that spot, staring blankly into thin air. The silence in the wake of that rant was deafening. Eventually, she forced herself to walk back to the dungeons, distantly aware of the impending curfew. The journey back was a blur. The image of her brother’s sneer was seared into her mind, his words on loop in her ears.

“Miss Potter,” a cold voice said, “it is a minute after curfew, what are you doing out of your room?”

Vacantly, she turned her head to see her Head of House cloaked in the shadows of the corridor. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came forth.

“Miss Potter!” His face showed alarm, for what reason Heather didn’t know. “Miss Potter! Heather, did something happen?”

She shook her head, surprised to feel droplets of water fall onto her hands. The clear liquid diluted the dried blood caked on her right hand, making a larger mess. Lifting her uninjured palm to her face, she felt the wetness there.

In quick strides, the man made his way right in front of her. Gentle hands took her bloodied one into their hold. In that moment, she broke and stumbled forwards into familiar arms.

Wrapped safely in the warm embrace, she cried.

~~~

The moment Severus saw the first tear fall, he started to panic inwardly. He had never seen Heather cry, not even during that disastrous occasion when he had accidentally seen her run in with Dursley. What could possibly have happened to her? Then his eyes honed in on the dull red mess on her hand.

He rushed forward, carefully picking up the appendage and inspecting it. He was able to see red gashes before Heather gave a pained sound and clutched the front of his robes with trembling hands. No further sounds were heard, though Heather now had her face pressed against the fabric of his cloak. His heart clenched at the silent sobbing that wracked her tiny frame.

At a loss for what to do (a common occurrence where she was involved), he gently led her in the direction of his office. Heather gave little reaction at the movement other than to press closer, so distraught she was. It was truly fortunate that they encountered no one on the way. There were few ways for him to explain the situation in a way that wasn’t compromising.

Once in the privacy of his office, he tried to set her down into the plush chair she usually claimed for her own. However, she clung tighter still, reluctant to let go. Severus resigned himself to the situation and sat next to her. It was impossible to find a position which could not be misconstrued for something inappropriate, so he sighed and put the room on lock down. Even Albus would find it difficult to enter. He forcefully pushed aside the fact that locking them both inside the room would be even more suspect.

Sitting in the chair with Heather crying into his robes, however, would surely bring questions no matter whether the door was locked or not. At least now he would have some warning before any interloper were to enter.

Now that he had found himself in such a situation, he had no idea where to even go. He awkwardly patted her back, trying to soothe her. Perhaps he should just let her exhaust herself. He had heard somewhere that it was therapeutic to cry.

It felt like hours later that the shaking finally subsided. The tight grip on his robes loosened, though Heather remained pressed against him.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked softly. The tone came out oddly. His voice was unused to being so kind.

“…yes, thank you,” Heather whispered hoarsely.

“Will you tell me what happened?” In truth, Severus had his on suspicions about the whole incident. Little could affect Heather Potter to such an extent. First on that very short list would be her brother. In fact, it could be argued that he was the only thing on said list.

“It’s kind of silly. Don’t even know why I broke down like that. It’s just been an emotional week,” she rambled, forcing a laugh. She probably wasn’t even lying. What with her exhaustion, then the potions accident, not to mention her fight and subsequent make-up with the twin menaces.

He simply gave a look.

She crumbled. “It’s Hadrian…”

Ahh, indeed. Anger burned in him at the thought of the thoughtless brat who was always causing grief for Heather. It seemed like not a moment went by that she _wasn’t_ worrying about the dratted boy.

“We had a falling out.” She took a shuddering breath. “We’ve had a few disagreements before, but we always got past them quickly. This is the first time…the first time we ever really argued so fiercely.”

He continued stroking her back, wordlessly encouraging her to go on.

“H-he said some things.” Finally, she looked up with her glistening green eyes. “Am I a bad sister? Do I hover too much? He thinks I’m overbearing and-and annoying.”

He cursed mentally. That thrice-accursed, ungrateful, little _wretch_! He was just like his father, unappreciative of the treasures he had. He knew Heather had told him not to judge the boy by his own experiences with James-bloody-Potter, but when faced with such evidence, it was difficult not to.

Before he had realised it, he had her chin in a light grip. Tilting her face up to look at him, he pointedly looked her over. “I do not see anything but a protective and loving sister whose brother should be more thankful of. He should be counting his lucky stars for having been blessed with a sibling like you.”

That elicited a weak smile out of Heather, which he counted as a victory for now.

“Mmm.”

Now that she wasn’t clinging to him like a limpet, he once again looked at her wounded hand. “And this?” He brought it closer to examine it. “What happened here?” He quickly summoned a wet cloth with his wand to clean the dried blood away. What he saw under that incensed him beyond belief. Actual words were written in her flesh, as if someone had taken a knife and sliced them in.

At this, she scoffed. “Detention with Umbridge, the bitch.”

Slightly amused by the uncharacteristic cussing, it took a moment before he realised what she had said. “Excuse me?” He was horrified that it was a Professor that had done this. Not that the woman really counted as one.

“She has this quill. I suspect it takes the user’s blood to write with.”

A Blood Quill. Bloody Umbridge was using a _Blood Quill_ on the students. How the devil had this happened without the other teachers finding out? He could hardly believe that the woman (and he used this term loosely) was torturing Hogwarts students right under their noses!

Heather screwed her expression into one of utter loathing. Severus suspected his own not far off. “She’s been making all the students she has detention with use it. You don’t know how many students have come to me for potions. Oh, that reminds me…”

Heather reached into the bag she was carrying and removed a phial. It looked to be Murtlap Essence, judging by the hue and consistency of the potion.

“You mean to say that all the students who have had detention with Umbridge now have permanent scarring on their hands?” The sadistic trollop had a lot to answer to.

“Oh, no, thank Salazar! Well, not the students who got potions from me, at least.” She held up her hand and smeared a dollop of the paste over it. “I reworked the formulation and added a rune to it. It removes scarring more effectively and works faster than normal Murtlap Essence.”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Severus could not help his intrigue at Heather’s work. He scooped a little of the paste with his finger and sniffed it. “You added marigold?”

She nodded. “And replaced basil with poppy seed.”

“Nicely done. Perhaps you could try stewing it until the mixture is cyan instead of mint before adding the poppy seeds next time. It should make the paste easier to wash off. This is a tad too viscous.”

“I’ll do that.”

They fell into a comfortable silence after that, as Heather worked the paste into her skin. He began to unconsciously stroke soothing circles on her back, which he only realised he was doing when she leaned into the touch. Clearing his throat, he said, “If you are feeling better, I believe that you should be heading back to your dormitory now.”

“Of course. Thank you again, Professor.” She shot him a shy smile as she got to her feet.

“Rest assured, once Albus hears of this, Umbridge will not be allowed to stay in Hogwarts,” he promised. In fact, he would personally make sure by _escorting_ the damned witch off school grounds.

Heather paused, tilting her head thoughtfully. “Could I request that you hold that off for a while. A month maybe? I have a few more detentions with her that I should see through.”

The gleam in her eyes told him that she had certain plans of her own in mind for Umbridge. Well, who was he to stand in the way of that? He inclined his head wordlessly, earning a bright, wicked grin from Heather in return.

In the meantime, he supposed he could reassign all of Umbridge’s other detentions to Argus instead.

~~~

It was a rare day that Heather allowed herself a lie-in, even if it was a weekend. Well, she felt she deserved it after yesterday’s mess. She lay flat on her bed, idly twirling a black quill which glinted a malevolent red in the light. She held it up above her face and stared intently at the seemingly-innocuous writing implement.

She’d relieved the wretched toad of the quill from right under her nose.  All it had taken was for her to ‘accidentally’ drop it on the floor and switch it out with a conjured facsimile when she bent to retrieve it. Her desk had easily blocked the switcheroo from Umbitch’s sight.

To think, such a little thing had caused her so much grief. She grimaced at the memory of last night's crying jag. Professor Snape always seemed to catch her at her worst.

Since then, Heather had experimented a bit with the quill. It was a heavily cursed object and definitely illegal. Umbridge was a fool for even possessing it in the first place.

Not only would it cause permanent scarring if the wounds were not treated quickly, Heather suspected that prolonged use would also affect the psyche of the user.

Blood was a very potent substance, especially for magicals. Various kinds of creature blood were used as the main ingredient in potions. Unicorn blood could bring blessing or curse depending on how one obtained it. A wizard's blood was used in many spells to make them more binding.

A quill that used your own blood to write in, and not only that, but carved the words into your flesh?

Etch the words deep enough and it might form a sort of magical contract or compulsion.

So if Umbitch had a student write ‘ _I must not disobey Professor Umbridge_ ’, then they would feel urged obey the woman. Like a watered down Imperius. And that was just one example. There were countless other students in Hogwarts who had served detention with Umbridge. Who knew what they had written?

It wouldn't be enough to just stop the use of the quill. No, that wouldn't be enough comeuppance for the bitch. But what to do? What to do? Hmm…

She definitely needed to do more research into the object. Well, she still had several detentions left. She’d think of something.

~~~

By the next time Heather stood outside of Umbridge’s office for detention, she had an inkling of a plan. She just needed to check a few things first.

As with last time, she was handed a black quill and parchment to use. A quick check showed that it wasn’t the replica that she had conjured last time. So Umbridge definitely had more of these cursed things. It was a simple matter to switch out the quill for something harmless again and it only took an illusion spell to fool the old toad into believing the quill was working just fine.

Heather certainly wasn’t going to subject herself to using the quill again.

She started to wonder why her brother hadn’t done the same, but pushed it aside. This wasn’t the time to mope about her fight with Hadrian.

Instead, she struck up a conversation with the nasty bitch in front of her. “I apologise in advance, but it’s been a tiring day. My hand might just slip and snap your _delightful_ quill in half.” Heather sneered up at the toad, eyes locking with hers.

As expected, Umbridge was looking right at her, clearly enjoying the sight of her student mutilating herself. Well, that just made things easier.

Umbridge replied with some equally insincere reassurance, but Heather wasn’t paying attention. The moment they had made eye contact, Heather dived right into her mind without making so much as a ripple in her consciousness. The idiot’s mind was utterly defenceless, ripe for the picking.

As Professor Snape had mentioned many times before, the mind wasn’t simply something to be opened and read. Legilimency didn’t offer the user telepathic powers as many believed, but a tiny window into someone’s mind at the time of casting. Heather couldn’t simply ravage Umbridge’s mind for the information she wanted, not without rendering her little more than a vegetable. And that was much too merciful a fate for what she had done. She wanted the bitch to be fully aware and conscious to experience the vengeance Heather would wreak.

Thus the sentence she had spoken to provoke the woman. Each person’s mind was unique, so only they had a clue how to navigate their own. If Heather were to try and uncover specific memories, she would require either much more time or an in-depth grasp of Umbridge’s psyche. In the absence of both, what Heather _could_ do was nudge Umbridge’s mind to bring up certain memories by triggering them with external stimuli.

Heather’s words had reminded Umbridge of a certain memory of one of Hadrian’s detentions with her.

_The wretched little boy glared up at her from where he sat, hand trembling in pain. It delighted Dolores to see the menace brought down a peg. Certain children just needed to be disciplined more firmly. His so-called guardian certainly wasn’t going to. Imagine that! A little girl playing at being the Head of the family! Utterly ludicrous. All those delusions about mad men coming back from the dead. Bah! Touched in the head, the lot of them._

_A sharp sound brought her attention to the boy again. Dolores couldn’t help but titter the sight. Did Potter really think that just by breaking the quill he could get out of his punishment? Relishing in his furious glower, she reached into her drawer and took out another of her little quills. She handed it to him smugly. She was much smarter than to only have one of them at hand. Children were destructive little beasts, after all._

The reminder of her brother’s suffering at the hands of this crazy bitch made her itch to curse her, but she stayed her hand. Revenge was a dish best served cold, as any self-respecting Slytherin very well knew. She grasped onto the memory and followed its trails to other related ones. A few other detentions with Hadrian, one where Umbridge secured her drawer containing the quills with a locking spell so painfully basic that any NEWT student could open it and some of her attempting to dye the quills a nauseating pink colour. Finally, Heather traced it back to the memory she wanted.

_Dolores laughed gleefully when she caught sight of the treasures inside the trunk. It was truly fortunate that she had decided to conduct a random spot check on the Department of Magical Law Enforcement today. It wasn’t quite in her jurisdiction, but she was a dedicated employee and often went out of her way to step up when there was a need. These incompetent fools decidedly made this needful._

_And she had been rewarded for her diligence of course. For inside the chest of confiscated items from a raid yesterday had included rare and highly dangerous Blood Quills._

_Not merely one or two, but_ ten _!_

_Truly a gift._

_Dolores quietly liberated the lot of them from the storeroom, already plotting of ways to keep the little Hogwarts hellions nice and obedient._

Heather pulled out of Umbitch’s mind, hiding a smirk. The toad didn’t suspect a thing. While the spell seemed to have lasted for quite a while, in reality it was just a few seconds. Everything that happened in the mind always felt much longer, after all.

Perfect. So Umbridge had ten of the cursed things, eight when considering the one Hadrian had broken and the one she had taken. And she stored them all in that drawer of hers behind a standard locking spell. Getting to them would be all too easy, especially if she enlisted a little help from Fred and George.

Now she just needed to work out the proper spells for what she was planning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: [lunarlooroo](https://lunarlooroo.tumblr.com/)


	83. Sweet Revenge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Thanks for all your comments! Hope you enjoy the latest chapter. Umbridge finally gets what's coming to her! It took me awhile to think this up, making it satisfying enough without outright torture.

He wasn’t coming.

Heather looked out the expansive window sightlessly, for once not moved by the view of Hogwarts’ grounds. It was currently day five since the argument with her brother and they had still not spoken a word to each other. It was killing her to be on the outs with Hadrian, but she was determined to respect his wishes to stay away. She had hoped that Hadrian would have changed his mind by now, but it wasn’t to be.

It seemed he wasn’t even coming for their Occlumency lessons today. It made her furious that he would risk his safety just because of their fight. What did he think they were doing with these lessons? It wasn’t just for fun, they were trying to protect his mind from Voldemort! She caught herself midway through her mental rant.

Was this what Hadrian meant? Was she being too overprotective? To her, this threat was rather serious. Come on, sharing headspace with Voldemort? But she thought that way about all potential dangers to her brother. She didn’t think it was too much of her to want to protect her brother from all that would harm him.

…But apparently, Hadrian did.

And that was the real kicker, wasn’t it?

Her first instinct was to go look for him and drag him here. Force him to focus on Occlumency whether he liked it or not. However, Hadrian’s previous words to her played mockingly in her mind.

_‘I’m perfectly capable of fighting my_ own  _battles, so why don’t you just mind your own business and leave. Me. Alone!’_

She flinched a little just at the memory of them.

“Heather?” Fred asked gently.

She turned to see her two best friends looking at her worriedly. They’d come to the Den this afternoon, ostensibly to work on some of their joke products, though they usually spent this time playing pranks on the unsuspecting masses. She knew they were really here for her. She had told them about the fight with her brother and they’d tried to spend as much time as they could with her (even more than they usually did) ever since.

“I don’t think Hadrian’s coming for lessons today,” she tried to say uncaringly. She knew she wasn’t fooling either of them.

“Well, lucky for us, then, eh Forge?” George declared, nudging his twin and winking roguishly.

“Sure is, Gred! So how about it, Heather-harp? Care to help your bestest friends in the whole world out with a prank?”

Despite her mood, she found herself smiling. “That depends, boys. Are you sure you’ll be able to pull off what I have in mind?”

They leaned forward in interest, eyes glinting mischievously. “Oh, now _this_ we have to hear.”

Chuckling, she pulled them close and told them her plans. Let’s just say it involved Umbitch, a few conjurations and certain potions.

~~~

A light knock preceded the sound of the door opening. Heather didn’t pause in her movements over the cauldron. Any misstep was liable to cause a tiny explosion right now.

“Is the potion done?” George asked, reading the notes she left on the table.

“Yup.” She watched keenly as the experimental potion turned a deep blue. Hopefully it would stay that way.

While she was in a lull in the brewing, she took a few short notes on her progress.

“Err, Heather,” Fred said, alarmed.

She turned and muttered a curse. The liquid was quickly turning a mud brown and bubbling ominously. As quick as she could, she erected a protective dome around the cauldron. If this were just a normal potion, she would have simply banished the sludge. However, since she was experimenting with it, she had to keep it to examine what had gone wrong.

Once the potion went still, she cautiously banished all the air around it before lowering the shield. Who knew what kinds of fumes the failed concoction could have emitted.

“Well, it will be,” she said wryly. “Once I get the formula right.” As she cast a few analytic spells at the mess in and around the cauldron, she asked, “And what about you two? Managed to tweak your Canary Cream potion successfully?”

“Oh yeah, finally got it-”

“-done just yesterday.”

She paused briefly to shoot them both a smile. “Excellent, we can carry our plan out soon.” She ducked her head to continue her additions to the potion recipe. It seemed like she’d added too much occamy shell and bay leaves. Creating and tweaking potions was always difficult. It required a strong grasp of theory and a lot of patience. She figured it would take another day or two before she could get this right, if she included the runic aspect of the potion.

“Well, that gives us time-”

“-to practice those spells,” Fred and George said after she told them.

Speaking of practice… Heather summoned a scroll to her with a wave of her hand. Handing it to Fred with deliberate casualness, she said, “Give that to Hadrian for me, would you?” before returning to her little project.

Fred and his George looked at each other before unrolling the parchment. In Heather’s neat hand read:

_Occlumency_

That was all they needed to know before they sighed in tandem and put the scroll away. They had tried to reason with Hadrian on their own, but it hadn’t gone anywhere. These Potters were really much too stubborn for their own good. They just hoped the silly fight would be resolved soon.

Meanwhile, they’d put their all into mastering those spells they needed for Operation Toad Cat-astrophe. The bitch would get what was coming to her.

~~~

Heather watched with bated breath as time ticked on and the potion remained a clear sapphire colour. When the timer struck a whole three minutes, she grinned and put the fire out. She had finally managed to stabilise her changes to the potion! Now all that was left was to test it before they could proceed with the plan. She was fairly confident that it would work properly, but she couldn’t just use it without checking first. Even if it was just on Umbridge.

She wasn’t looking forward to testing it, though. Its effects would be… _unpleasant_ , to say the least.

But that needed to wait for tomorrow. She couldn’t administer this new potion on herself while she was alone. That was plain idiocy. She would do it tomorrow when Fred and George were around.

In the meantime, she would go over her notes on the blood quill again and make sure her calculations for the spellwork were correct. This was the main part of the plan that couldn’t be messed up. Ultimately, all the other things were just part of the distraction so she could get to Umbitch’s stash of the nasty quills.

Dolores Umbridge would soon get her comeuppance.

~~~

“Yes Miss Potter?” Umbridge asked, smiling that obviously fake smile of hers.

Heather gave her own cheery smile. “But Professor Umbitch- sorry, I meant Umbridge, the _Flagrante_ curse is cast with the reverse Weltley’s Wave movement, not a swish. It’s a common mistake, of course.” The whole class gasped, whether at her insult or the way she rudely corrected the woman, she didn’t know.

Umbridge puffed up in offence, looking even more like a toad. “Detention!” she exclaimed shrilly, “For sheer disrespect towards your betters and reading about Dark Magic!”

Inwardly, Heather scoffed before deciding against it and outwardly showed her disdain. Please, the Burning Curse was hardly dark. Just because it was labelled a curse didn’t mean it was, despite what this shrew believed. Well, in for a sickle, in for a galleon.

“But Professor Umbridge,” Heather began innocently, “ _Flagrante_ is clearly on the list of required spells on the curriculum of the International Magical Prerequisites. So are _Confringo, Expulso, Geminio_ and _Reducto._ The I.M.P.s are the global standardised testing for any wizards and witches seeking employment in foreign countries. You can’t possibly not teach these spells. Surely you aren’t implying that our country’s examinations are at a lower standard than average?”

The Ministry lackey was getting redder by the second, with every word that left Heather’s mouth. Heather didn’t even try to hide her growing smirk.

Narrowing her beady eyes hatefully, Umbitch shouted for her to get out of the classroom.

“Of course, Professor,” Heather said, with mock demureness. _Gladly_ , went unsaid. Her smooth glide out of the room spoke for itself. She winked at Fred and George as she left.

_Hook_.

~~~

“Do you know why you’re here, Miss Potter?”

Heather tilted her head. “I disrespected you.”

“Professor,” Umbridge added pointedly. “I disrespected you, _Professor_.”

“Oh, that’s quite alright. You’re forgiven. Also, I’m not actually a Professor. I just study hard,” she said guilelessly.

The glare Umbridge gave her just then was almost a tenth of Professor Snape’s. An admirable effort for an amateur.

The woman visibly collected herself before smirking forcefully. “No matter. I’m certain you’ll learn your lesson after today. Even if you don’t, we have two more weeks of detention to go through.”

With a flourish, Umbridge passed Heather one of those blood quills. “Let’s see… How about _‘I must not disrespect my betters’_. A thousand times.” The toad-woman was clearly discomfited by the mer-like grin Heather gave at the pronouncement. “Well? Get to it then!” she snapped.

Unperturbed, Heather put the quill to parchment, beginning her lines. Right on cue, soft meowing could be heard from outside the room. She put on a confused face, looking around for the source of the noise.

Umbridge shot her a suspicious look. "Continue writing!" She spat, before standing and heading towards the door.

It clicked open, allowing the meowing of what sounded like several kittens to stream in louder. Heather heard Umbridge coo simperingly at the sight before her and barely resisted the urge to vomit. Heather felt brief pity for the poor felines being doted over by the detestable toad. It passed quickly when she remembered that no _actual_ cats were at risk of being harmed.

"Oh, where are you going, darlings?" The mewing sounds were getting fainter. "You had better behave yourself, Potter!" Umbridge shot towards her, like how one might berate a toddler, as she dashed off after the kittens. The woman’s obsession with them were disturbing, to say the least.

"Yes, Professor Umbitch," Heather replied mockingly, even though she knew the other wouldn't hear her.

_Line_.

~~~

Fred peeked around the corner, on high alert for any meowing sounds. Behind him, George was leaning casually against the wall. He just knew his twin was amused by how high strung he was about this prank.

Shooting George a look of annoyance, their gazes exchanged a conversation which roughly translated to:

_'Would you take this seriously?'_

_'Chill out, brother. The plan's proceeding perfectly.'_

_'You know how things can go wrong at any second!'_

_'Have the three of us failed at anything before?'_

He grudgingly ceded the point to his twin. He, George and Heather made a formidable team.

They both stilled when the first kitten stepped into sight. It was followed by several more and the toad bitch herself. For not the first time, Fred and George shook their heads at the stupidity of the woman. Sure, follow the random group of kittens that turned up on your doorstep. What could _possibly_ go wrong?

Well, she'd be finding out pretty soon. Fred smiled gleefully when she followed the kittens into an empty classroom. With a flick of their wands, the door slammed shut and strong locking charms fell into place. It was only when the first screams filtered through the wood that they cheerfully cast a few silencing spells.

Oh, what they wouldn't give to be pixies on the wall in that room right now.

~~~

Heather went straight for the drawer of Umbitch's desk as soon as she left the room. She didn't know how long this would take, so she wanted to err on the side of caution.

As Heather had expected, the locking charm barely took a second to dispel, revealing six blood quills and the fake one Heather herself had conjured. It seemed that one more had been destroyed since the last time. She banished the fake and returned the one she had nicked.

"I am giving this blood quill back to you now, Dolores Umbridge."

Taking a deep breath, she centred herself. Then, she began a complicated spell that she had spent weeks searching for and tweaking to suit her needs.

Certainly, she could simply get rid of all the real blood quills and save herself all this trouble. But that was letting the toad off too lightly.

No, Heather was going to turn Umbridge's own blood quills against her.

The keyword being 'own'.

It had taken her ages to find this particular spell. One that would target the owner of a specific object – or objects, in this case. The books from the Black Library had been a godsend for her. It was originally a spell to locate a person using an object they owned, but Heather had taken the aspect of the spell that homed into the owner and conjugated it to another spell.

Now, this second spell was one that redirected magic away from the original target. It was a seventh year Defence spell, as controlling the flow of magic was much more difficult than simply shielding against it.

Put together, the spell would automatically redirect the effects of the blood quills to their owner, Umbitch. It was why Heather intentionally stated that she would be returning the stolen quill to the other woman's possession.

She was immensely proud of this spell she had ‘created’, which she tentatively named the Finder’s Vengeance curse. She was by no means a Master Spellweaver, but once again, she had had help from the Half-Blood Prince. Finding out the real identity of her Prince hadn’t stopped her from using his books, even if it made her heart beat faster and cheeks heat up more. She chalked it up to embarrassment.

Anyway, her Prince (Professor Snape!) had been something like a prodigy at crafting spells even at a young age. The Defence books had numerous comments in the margin about how to change the spells to suit his needs, and even some entirely new spells he had created! All written in his usual cutting humour, of course. She’d never have been able to do this spell if it weren’t for his help.

She made a note to tell Professor Snape about it sometime in the future. She was sure he’d be ever so pleased to know he had a hand in getting back at Umbridge.

And to top it all off, just one last spell, a relative of the _Priori Incantato._ Objects had memory to them, magical objects especially so. Every single student who had used the quills would have left an impression. This spell would call up all previous uses of the quills and work together with the Finder’s Vengeance to exert effects on Umbridge. Over the course of the next few days, Umbridge would find herself in a world of pain as the words she had made all her student write carved themselves into her flesh.

If Umbridge had even the slightest bit of intelligence, she would immediately try to destroy or dispose of the quills.

Heather sealed  _that_ route of escape off by hiding the real quills under strong disillusionment while creating decoy quills. Thus, even if Umbridge destroyed them, the real ones would still be safe and exerting their effects. It also had the added benefit of keeping students who had future detentions with Umbridge unharmed.

Fred and George had been amazed by how detailed and convoluted her plan was. She had _‘created solutions to problems that probably wouldn’t arise’_ , according to them. Well, planning too much was better than vice versa. She wouldn’t be in Slytherin if her back-up plans didn’t have back-up plans.

With that, she was finally done with her part of the plan. This was hardly the end of it. Fred and George still had a few tricks they wanted to try out.

The next few days were going to be a blast.

_Sinker._

~~~

Dolores was absolutely tickled pink by the five little kittens that were frolicking in front of her. How utterly adorable they were! Grey British Shorthairs with perfectly blue eyes, her favourite breed of cat. She just could not resist going after the little angels. From their features, they were clearly purebreds. None of that mixed-blood filth!

Clearly, they were a gift from one of Dumbledore’s sycophantic fools in an attempt to appease her. These people were misguided, but at least they were intelligent enough to recognise their superiors! Perhaps she would convince dear Cornelius to go easy on whomever was behind this gesture when he finally wrested Hogwarts back from Dumbledore’s control.

The kittens seemed to know where they were going as they navigated the winding hallways. When the Ministry took over Hogwarts, Dolores would make sure to knock down all these dratted walkways and build more organised ones in place. Put more pink everywhere as well! All the grey and black was ever so dreary.

Soft mews coaxed her into catching up with the little group. Ahh, this was just what she needed after a long and frustrating day dealing with miserable brats, Heather Potter especially! She had just _known_ that the little obedient act was just that, an act. The girl had finally decided to show her true colours, talking back to teachers and being a spoilt princess.

Idly, she followed the kittens into an unused classroom, too distracted to notice the door slam shut behind her. As one, all five kittens turned around to face her. All the soft meows and purrs ceased as they stood like statues staring straight at her.

At this point, Dolores was starting to feel a thread of apprehension. The solemn blue gazes of the five kittens were a little unnerving.

“What’s the matter, poppets? Are you hungry?” Dolores cooed. “Well, I’m sure we could get one of the elves to fetch us some delicious tuna.” Her faced scrunched briefly in distaste at the thought of those… _things_ , but she could admit they had their uses, if only as lowly slaves.

Before she could call for a house elf, though, she felt a sharp pain in her calf. Yelping, she looked down to see that one of the kittens had embedded it claws into her leg. Why, the little devil!

She bent over and reached for the scruff of the offending feline, intending on berating the disobedient thing. However, her vision blurred around the edges and she watched in horror at the sight before her.

The kittens were convulsing where they stood, their backs twisting upon themselves as they grew in size. Their teeth grew razor sharp, as did their claws. Throughout this process, they made not a sound, which somehow added to the overall terror of the scene.

Dolores snapped herself out of her paralysis and ran back towards the door. She whimpered in fear when it refused to budge no matter how hard to pushed. Her panic reached new heights when she realised that she had left her wand back in her office. Not knowing what else to do, she screamed for help, clawing fruitlessly at the door trapping her in this freakish nightmare.

“Hel-aaAHH **HH**!” Agony raced up her spine as she felt her legs being shredded to ribbons by the demon cats. Her knees collapsed at the strain and she fell to the floor. Too late, she realised this only brought her closer to being torn apart by the murderously sharp claws and teeth.

After what seemed like hours of excruciating torture, she finally embraced the relief of darkness.

~~~

“It’s been half an hour,” George said, looking to his twin.

Fred nodded. Umbridge was probably deep into unconsciousness by now. Just to be sure, he lifted the silencing charm for a little bit. No noises from inside the room could be heard.

“Time to let the toad out,” Fred said gleefully.

“You think Heather’s done yet?”

They unlocked the door and peeked inside.

“Probably. Even if she isn’t Umbitch is too out of it to notice anyway.”

They both grinned at the collapsed form of the horrid bitch. She was trembling and whimpering pitifully even while insentient. George shared a conspiratorial look with Fred.

“It worked!” they whooped, high-fiving each other.

Bleeding sluggishly, the spattering of puncture marks on Umbridge’s left calf was the only sign left by the kittens they had conjured earlier that night. From the slightly blue tinge of the blood, it seemed their kittens had been able to successfully dose Umbridge with the potion Heather had slaved over for the past week.

She had twisted a Daydream Draught into a Daymare Draught. It was a hallucinogen that gave the victim horrifying visions based on an initial unpleasant trigger. In Umbridge’s case, the kitten stabbing her with its claws served as both the trigger and the mode of delivering the potion. Fred and George thought their idea of coating the claws with the potion had been a particularly ingenious idea. Not only did it get the potion directly into the bloodstream, they also didn’t have to try and spike Umbridge’s food.

“ _Tergeo_.” Fred cleaned up the blood.

“ _Episkey_.” George efficiently closed the wound, leaving not even a scar behind.

Now to bring Umbridge back to her office where Heather would pretend that she had simply fallen asleep during the detention. To the toad-faced woman, the past hour would have all been a completely terrifying nightmare.

Little did Umbridge know, it would just be the start of her torment.

~~~

Dolores came to with a piercing shriek of utter anguish. Her hands automatically reached out to pat down her body to soothe the stinging ache from the gouge marks. Thus, she was shocked to find her skin flawless. She looked down at her polished rosewood desk, realising she was in her office.

“Professor Umbridge, are you okay?”

Her gaze shot up to glare at the interloper. Heather Potter. Ahh yes, the detention.

“You look like you had a nightmare.” Potter had a flat expression as her hand paused in midair, the blood quill held between her fingers.

“Fine, I’m fine! Get back to writing!” Dolores snapped irritably. Her voice trembled slightly, still shaken by her experience. A nightmare? All that had been a _nightmare?_ Her breath shuddered out of her in a sigh. She lifted her shaky arms out for inspection, deliriously relieved to find them free of the deep red scratches she had half-expected.

Leaning back in her chair, she glanced around the room. And shot up in her seat again. Her breaths started coming quicker until she was hyperventilating. Her eyes darted about the room.

Cats on the walls. Cats on the carpet. Cats on the shelf.

Ginger Tabby cats. Russian Blue cats. Siamese cats. _British Shorthair cats._

Cats. Cats _everywhere_.

“GET OUT!” she shrieked.

Potter threw herself out of her seat in shock, but Dolores wasn’t paying her any mind.

“Profe-”

“GO!”

With furrowed brow, the uppity little whelp slowly backed out of the room, as if _Dolores_ were the feral creature to watch out for.

Phantom claws were cutting her flesh open, sending spasms of pain through her body. Every time her gaze landed on one of the hellish creatures, another lash of agony hot through her. Nowhere in her office was safe! It was all filled with… _those things_.

It took Dolores several tries, but she eventually managed to stumble through the pain and out of the room.

~~~

Fred, George and Heather decided to hold off on any further action for now, to give a chance for Umbridge to let her guard down. Last Heather had heard, the toad had ordered the house elves to tear down all the cat paraphernalia in her office and within Hogwarts itself. The latter, however, was out of her jurisdiction.

It was hilarious to see her walk down a hallway and shriek like a bean sidhe at the sight of a portrait containing any sort of feline. Even the slightest hint of a meow was liable to set her off.

Everyone was gossiping about the latest madness that was Dolores Umbridge. The students that had been subjected to her punishment, had, of course, been the loudest in their jeering. Once the rumour had been spread about their High Inquisitor's newfound phobia of cats, students from all houses and years could be spotted trying to provoke Umbridge.

Some started meowing randomly. Others took to carrying their kneazle familiars around during free period. Some daring Gryffindors had even gone so far as to fill the Defence classroom with the cat decorations Umbridge had ordered the elves to dispose of.

Clearly, their plan of laying off of Umbridge for a while hadn't exactly worked out, though they were far from displeased. They should have expected the immense hatred everyone had for the toad. In fact, now it seemed like it was a school-wide prank against her! House unity had never been this apparent.

Of course, now that this had happened, the infamous Weasley twins couldn't possibly _not_ pitch in their fair share. In fact, they now had to produce something bigger and better than everyone else combined. Their reputation was on the line!

Or, well that was what Fred and George had told Heather. She thought that their original plans had been great enough, but she was all for stepping them up. All the better to torture Umbridge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? What did you think of the revenge? Too much? Too little? Let me know in the comments!
> 
> My tumblr: [lunarlooroo](https://lunarlooroo.tumblr.com/)


	84. Bloody Catastrophe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I just returned from a holiday in Japan, which is why I'm slightly late in posting this chapter. Running on 4 hours sleep after a late night flight, but feeling surprisingly alive. Really hungry though. Anyway, enough with my rambling, hope you like this next chapter!

 

The pear let out a burst of guffaws before letting the portrait swing open. As usual, a multitude of elves were scuttling around frantically in their meal preparations. From the fray, one of them broke rank to eagerly greet Heather, George and Fred as they stepped through the portrait hole.

"Mistress Heather! What be Mistress and her twinsies needing? Dobby is being happy to help!" The little elf's eyes were practically shining in excitement at the thought of an order.

Heather and Hadrian rarely enlisted the help of their bonded elf during the school term since students weren't allowed to bring their own help. Technically, Dobby was under the employ of Hogwarts while school was in session. It made Dobby happy to have so much to do even when no one was living in the Nest. However, this prank of theirs required special aid.

"Hello Dobby, how are you doing today?" Heather asked. Umbridge had been especially horrid to the elves as of late. Particularly because they couldn't and wouldn't clear the entire castle of all things feline. Though a part of it was purely because the toad was a bigoted shrew who thought all creatures were to be eradicated or, at least, denigrated to nothing more than slaves.

"Bitchy be shouting at all the elfs, Mistress, but Dobby not be taking it, no Dobby is not!"  Dobby said irately. Then, with a sly smile, he added, "Dobby puts all of the kitty pictures in Bitchy's room. Bitchy is very scared of poor little kitties."

The three of them snickered at the Dobby's epithet for the toad as well as his payback. The elf, for his part, merely looked smug at getting back at Umbridge. Yes, Dobby would be perfect for this job.

"Yeah, that's kind of why we're here, Dobby. How would you feel about helping us prank Umbridge?" Heather asked, winking at the elf when he giggled evilly at the suggestion.

"We need you to help us put this," Fred said as George waved one of several large phials of orange liquid, "in the pudding for tonight's dinner."

There was a high-pitched squeak at that before another elf ran forwards. "Elfs not be allowed to put nasty potions in the food, Miss Heather!"

Heather noted with surprise that she recognised this elf. "Mipsy! It's been a while." She said that sentence with a slight bit of guilt. Between all that had been going on in recent years, she had rarely taken the time to come visit her friend. She resolved to correct that. It was the least she could do after Mipsy had helped her so much, after all.

Dobby turned to the newcomer with an inordinately large smile on his face, practically vibrating in his excitement. "Yous be the elf that helped Dobby's Mistress and Master? Dobby thanks pretty Mipsy a hundred, no, _million_ times!"

Mipsy turned a dark shade, averting her eyes. "Mipsy was just doing her job, she was! Dobby is too nice!"

Fred and George both nudged her, waggling their eyebrows suggestively. Heather laughed a little at the interaction, but had to interrupt. They did sort of have a reason for coming here today.

“Anyway, Mipsy, you don’t have to worry about the prank. I made sure that none of the people in the castle are allergic to anything in the potion and it has no harmful effects.”

A year or two ago, Fred and George had actually accidentally triggered an allergic reaction in one of their targets with their Belching Mixture. Thankfully, the student had had their medicine on hand, otherwise it could have ended badly. Because of that, Heather had asked for a list of allergens for the whole student population from Madam Pomfrey on the pretext of the potions she brewed for the infirmary. It was much easier than the twins’ idea of sneaking in and stealing it. Anyway, since then, they hadn’t encountered such an incident again. So Heather was very certain that none of the students would come to harm in this prank.

Despite her reassurance, Mipsy didn’t really look very convinced.

Fred and George chimed in to try and persuade the elf. “The potion’s effects will only last an hour-”

“-at most! And the butt of the joke is-”

“- _only_ Umbridge, not any students.”

“She’s a nasty little bitch-”

“-isn’t she? Always yelling at you elves!”

The little elf now looked more tempted

“She’s been hurting the students, y’know?”

“Don’t you want her to get payback for that?”

Now, a determined glint entered Mipsy’s eyes. It seemed that all it took for her to cave was the mention of the students being threatened.

“Miss Heather and Misters Weasley can be giving potion to Mipsy. Mipsy be putting the potion for yous in the pudding!” She thrust her hand out eagerly to take the crate of phials. She cradled the proffered crate reverently in her arms, muttering, “Mipsy be showing Bitchy not to mess with her students, yes Mipsy bes doing that!” With that, Mipsy flounced off with a disturbingly high cackle.

Heather was at once both impressed and unnerved by the bloodthirsty look Mipsy sported as she turned away.

~~~

It was with hidden smirks that Heather, Fred and George attended dinner that day. They couldn’t wait to see the look Umbridge’s face when their prank unfolded. They had even set up wizarding cameras in various locations of the Great Hall that were specifically locked in on the old toad.

She patiently sat through the first part of the evening, serving herself a hearty meal of steak and roasted vegetables. No one would suspect anything afoot from watching her calmly eat her meal. Of course, this was to be expected from any self-respecting Slytherin or prankster.

Finally, the much-anticipated portion of the meal arrived. The dessert plates started to pop up on the table, courtesy of the house elves. She didn’t bother to hide her glee as she got a huge serving of treacle tart for herself. Her sweet tooth was no secret from her fellow students, but little did they know, her enthusiasm tonight was hardly to do with the sugary confection placed before her.

Without a single hint of hesitation, she devoured the treacle tart. She noted with great amusement that Fred and George had dared the guys around them to an impromptu eating contest and were currently wolfing down on large slices of chocolate cake. Around her, most of the students had started digging in to their own desserts. Only a scant few of them refrained, she was pleased to note.

By her estimate, she just had to wait a few more minutes for the potion to come into effect. It would typically work immediately, but George had had the foresight to make the potion have a delayed onset to ensure more people would consume it before it showed effect. Not long now…

Heather surreptitiously flicked her fingers towards all the entrances, locking them heavily to prevent escape. Thank Salazar for her great timing, because just as she did so, Dumbledore sensed the magic being cast but was distracted by the first transformation of the night.

Shrieks erupted from the Gryffindor table as Ronald Weasley bent over himself before growing fur and morphing into a human-sized, orange…cat.

Heather couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. It figured that the boy would be the first, seeing as he guzzled down food with the speed of a starving street urchin.

The Professors all stood in alarm at the sudden transformation, Professor McGonagall being the first to move towards her lions. Meanwhile, Umbridge screamed in horror, backing away.

Of course, Ron was just the first of many. Moments after he finished his transformation, a commotion started up a short distance away from her own seat. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, two boys in Draco’s posse, had begun their own descent into felinity. As if a casting a chain spell, more and more people started turning into cats. It wasn’t long before Heather felt her own change taking place.

It was a bizarre feeling to have her body stretch into a different shape. She wondered if this felt like an animagus transformation or was it different, since it was triggered by an external magic.

By the time she was fully feline, most of the occupants of the Great Hall were in a similar state. Only the small handful who had not partaken in any pudding were spared. Except, of course, for Umbridge, whom they had specifically made sure had untampered dessert.

Smirking like the cat who’d gotten the cream (pun intended), she stood on her four limbs and stretched sinuously. _Ahh_ , a cat’s flexibility really was amazing. She ignored the manically yowling giant cats around her and casually slinked towards her fellow accomplices, who had turned into orange bobtailed cats.

As she made her way there, she noted with great amusement that even most of the Professors had become victim to their prank. Professor McGonagall had turned into a larger version of her animagus form, and interestingly enough couldn’t seem to turn back. Professor Flitwick was an adorable little munchkin while Hagrid was a gigantic shaggy maine coon. Perhaps most hilariously (and impossibly) was Headmaster Dumbledore, who was now a garish rainbow-coloured calico.

Their transformation hadn’t stopped them trying to fix the situation, of course. Though their methods had now taken a very _creative_ turn. The Gryffindor Head of House was now sternly nipping at the ears of misbehaving kittens – err, students – and even grabbing one by the scruff when that didn’t work. Hagrid, bless him, had taken to frantically scratching at the doors like an actual cat begging to be let out in his attempt to free everyone.

It was a mystery where Professor Snape had disappeared to, however, though Heather didn’t put it past him to have slunk off into a shadowed corner to wait out the potion’s effects.

Throughout all this, Umbridge had been slowly backing herself against the furthest wall to get as much distance as she could from all these cats as possible. Heather growled lowly in her throat at that. What a stupid woman, she was only trapping herself. Once she had found Fred and George, she nudged her head against their chins. She had been aiming for their heads, but even in cat form she was much shorter than them.

While she did not have quite the level of wordless communication with them that they had with each other, she supposed the light in her eyes had conveyed her intentions successfully. They both purred in agreement and homed in on Umbitch who had gone white with fear. And psychosomatic pain, but no one but them needed to know.

A few others stopped to stare at the three of them as they all but sauntered along, tails raised high in glee. It soon became obvious where they were headed, and more importantly, _who_ they were headed towards. The sharper ones were quick to realise the _real_ target of tonight’s prank. It didn’t take long for most of the school to remember Umbridge’s recent attitude towards cats.

In fact, a quick glance told Heather that they had garnered quite a following on their trek across the Great Hall. It wasn’t even them leading the group now. Some of the more enthusiastic students were at the helm, all of them taking the relative anonymity being a cat afforded them to taunt Umbridge.

Right now, the toad was surrounded on all sides by towering cats, all baying for her blood. Perhaps literally, in Heather’s own case. She had, after all, put all that effort into the spells for the blood quills. By now, Umbridge likely had a sizeable collection of scars all over her body. It was just a pity that they weren’t anywhere visible.

Heather just sat back on her haunches to enjoy the show, content to watch the others do the work for her like the Slytherin she was. Fred and George, of course, leapt into the fray with yowls loud enough to deafen.

~~~

It took the Professors over an hour to finally settle all the chaos. It mostly took so long only because no one could use their wands while in feline form. In the end, it was Headmaster Dumbledore’s skill with wandless magic that turned the tides.

Once he had managed to turn himself back, he quickly helped the other Professors do the same. After that, it was a simple matter to reverse the changes for all of the students.

By then, Umbridge was little more than a drooling pile of limbs on the floor, having passed out from fright a while ago.

“FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY! MY OFFICE, NOW!” Professor McGonagall screamed, pointing them towards the – now unlocked – doors like they were errant children. Her hair was, for once, not in its tight bun, but messy and half-unwound and her eyes were all but bulging out of their sockets. She looked quite mad.

Meanwhile, the other teachers began checking for injuries and sending people back to their dormitories. Heather stifled a laugh as she joined a group of her housemates to leave the hall.

However, she was stopped in her tracks by her two traitorous friends, who each had an arm around her.

“Whoa there, Heather-”

“-hold your thestrals.”

“You’re not getting out of-”

“-this so easily.”

With that, they determinedly frog-marched her in the direction of Professor McGonagall’s office.

She struggled lightly, mostly for show. “Aren’t you supposed to be covering for me? Taking all the blame so I don’t get in trouble? House of the chivalrous and noble and all that?”

“Look at that-” Fred started, faking shock.

“-you must have rubbed off on-”

“-us, little snake.”

Heather chuckled, ceasing her fidgeting. Most of her weight was currently being supported by them, after all. She didn’t want to dislodge their hands and fall. By the time they arrived, her arms were aching something fierce, though not as fierce as the glower on a certain teacher’s face.

Facing an irate Professor McGonagall was a little like being put on the death row.

“You as _well_ , Miss Potter?” the elderly witch said with frustration.

She bit her lip to keep from smiling, though she could tell she hadn’t fooled anyone. “Yes, Professor,” she settled for saying.

“Well, I _never_ , in all my years of teaching…” the Professor began furiously, posture stiff as a statue.

“…trouble of the largest scale in Hogwarts’ history…”

“…have a mind to give _years_ worth of detention…”

“…will be scrubbing the floors till they _gleam_ …”

“…and! And you all-”

To Heather’s mixed shock and delight, George took the chance to cut in on Professor McGonagall’s rant.

“But it was hilarious, wasn’t it?” George said, waggling his brows.

Fred the pounced in as well. “Did you see how Umbridge fainted?”

Of course, how then could Heather resist adding, “I dare say she _relieved herself_ when she passed out.” Smirking, she tacked on, “If you catch my meaning.”

.

.

.

Silence.

Professor McGonagall merely stared at all three of them, not saying a word. The tension built and built until, abruptly, she seemed to sag, leaning backwards onto her chair. Closing her eyes, she muttered wearily, “Go, just go!” She made a sharp dismissive gesture with a hand while the other came up to massage her temple.

“Good night, Professor McGonagall!” they chorused before escaping.

Unbeknownst to them, the moment she was left alone in her office Minerva’s stern visage melted away quicker than a snitch. She descended into helpless cackles as she recalled the previous hour.

“I’ll need to borrow Albus’ pensieve to watch this again for the next time the daft woman gets on my nerves,” she said breathlessly, between peals of laughter.

“Fifty – _haha_! – points to Gryffindor – _ahaha_! – and Slytherin!”

~~~

It had been a week since what Fred and George fondly called the ‘Toady Cat-astrophe’ and Umbridge had still not surfaced from her room. Madam Pomfrey had told Heather that the toad fled the infirmary the moment she woke, without so much as a word of appreciation for the matron. The whole castle was having a holiday in her absence, with the real Alastor Moody being called in to substitute for Defence.

Even now, the incident was still being talked about with much glee amongst the students. What made this even better was that the Professors were all turning a deaf ear to this outright slander of their colleague. Even adding to it privately, Heather suspected. (She had noticed the extra points to Slytherin and Gryffindor after their scolding from Professor McGonagall.)

She, Fred and George had laughed their heads off after they left the Deputy Headmistress’ office. Not only had they not gotten any detention, they’d actually received _points_.

Furthermore, this venture might be their most lucrative yet.

It was only after the chaos had died down that day that they remembered the camera they had charmed to take pictures of Umbridge. Selling the photos at five sickles a pop was making them quite the killing. And, it helped the twins to promote their future joke shop, since they marketed the photos together with several of their products.

The bestseller was, of course, the Kitty Kandies, little sweets that contained a weaker form of the potion they had used for their prank. It even outsold the original Canary Creams that Fred and George had based the Kitty Kandy potion on.

Fred and George were well on their way to developing a good customer base for when they eventually set up their shop.

Just because Umbridge was in self-imposed isolation didn’t mean that all of Heather’s problems were solved, however. She had been keeping an ear out for news on her brother since their argument and what she heard wasn’t encouraging in the least.

Hadrian was getting increasingly short-tempered and distant, often spacing out during lessons. His grades had suffered and a few Professors had already come to her for aid. She was just as helpless as they were and had no idea what Hadrian’s problem was. Her brother had never been this irritable before, having always been a relatively happy child despite the Dursleys. It was like a _Nox_ had been cast.

If only they hadn’t had that fight! Heather was fairly certain that any attempts on her part to reconcile now would only serve to further sour Hadrian’s mood. That Potter stubbornness really was such a nuisance sometimes! The most she could do right now was watch over him from afar and ask Dobby to discreetly take care of him.

~~~

Unfortunately, Umbridge couldn’t stay holed up forever. She eventually showed herself in public again two weeks after her ordeal. Not only that, she emerged armed with a fresh Educational Decree banning all feline-related activity anywhere she could see or hear. To say her reappearance was greeted with frowns would be a massive understatement.

It was only fortunate that she didn’t manage to banish all felines from the castle entirely, by virtue of the common wizarding tradition of having cat familiars. She wouldn’t have been able to squeak _that_ past the Education Board.

It was on the third day of the toad’s reintegration to polite society that things started to heat up again. To Heather’s sheer and utter delight, a blood red smattering of words started to carve themselves into the skin of Umbitch’s forearm in the middle of lunch that day. The sentence was in clear view of anyone near her, who obviously included the staff members. Starkly, incriminatingly, the words read:

_‘I must not whine childishly in class.’_

Well, okay, the words weren’t all that incriminating when taken out of context, but she had the feeling that that would soon be addressed.

Immediately, several things happened at once.

First, Umbridge shrieked in pain at the feeling of her flesh being gouged into. That was always entertaining to watch.

Second, Madam Pomfrey (indeed, most of the Professors) leapt to their feet, ready to treat anyone in need. Even if the patient in question was an abhorrent, bigoted, nasty shrew of a witch. And that was one reason why Heather could never enter the healing profession.

Last, whispers from those closest to the staff table travelled quicker than a hex down the rows of students until one particular girl heard the situation and gasped loudly in shock. Said girl was a third year Puff, one Amethyst Fairfax, who had, presumedly, been the victim of having that line for her detentions.

Of course, Heather only found this out from Fred and George later, along with the fact that Fairfax had mustered the courage to report the situation to Professor Sprout. She had been accompanied by her loyal housemates, most of them who had also felt the sting of Umbridge’s blood quill.

Predictably, this incited other victims to speak up, some brave few (mostly Gryffs) even showing their scars. The next few days were filled with dozens of students going in and out of their Heads of House’s offices to report Umbridge.

Not one to miss out on an opportunity to get the toad into more trouble, Heather obviously made plans for a visit to Professor Snape herself. What she didn’t expect was for several of her younger housemates to tag along. She’d thought that they would want to keep their torment to themselves for the sake of their pride, but clearly their vindictiveness towards Umbitch won out.

With Heather today were most of the first and second year Slytherins, all of whom had accrued detention with Umbridge for one reason or another and forced to use the blood quill. When they were allowed entry to the office, Heather could immediately tell that the man was in a Bad Mood.

“Sit down, all of you,” Professor Snape snapped impatiently, casually whipping his wand and conjuring enough chairs for them all.

One by one, each student spoke up about their experience in detention with Umbridge and were asked to provide proof. Of course, none of them had physical scars remaining (though emotional ones were debatable) having used Heather’s Murtlap Essence. In lieu of that, most consented to providing memories. Heather was the last to be asked and she made sure to give a memory that showcased Umbridge in the worst possible light.

At the end of it all, Professor Snape dismissed them all but her, demanding in a forbidding tone that she stay behind. The kids gave her sympathetic glances as they hurried off, though she smiled at them comfortingly. They didn’t know that Professor Snape didn’t _actually_ hate her, after all.

Once the door swung shut, the man’s formidable glare melted into a more neutral expression. One she might actually describe as soft, knowing him as well as she did. With a wave of his wand, the extra chairs disappeared and he nodded towards one of the regular office chairs. _Her_ chair, the one she had always used during their Wednesday sessions in the past.

With great relish, she settled into it. It felt a little bit like coming home.

She turned her gaze to Professor Snape, who had watched her all but snuggle into her – well, really his – chair with a tiny quirk to his lips. She raised his chin, daring him to comment. She _really_ loved this chair.

“Cats, Miss Potter? Really?” was what he said instead.

The unexpected statement had her bursting into giggles. Almost everything about this giant prank on Umbridge could fuel her Patronus, honestly.

“Any animal would have done just as well. Using cats simply had the benefit of absolutely ruining something that she loved,” Heather said casually, shrugging off the cruel sentiment. She certainly felt no guilt at it.

“Yes, but Minerva’s been gloating for _weeks_ now,” he muttered lowly. Heather’s smile cracked wider at the utterance, but she otherwise pretended not to hear.

“Was there an actual reason that you held me back, or did you only want to complain about being shown up by Professor McGonagall?” Heather knew that coming from any other student, this cheek would earn her detention and 20 points taken off, at least. She was one of the few people who could tease Professor Snape like this and live. As predicted, the man merely sighed and shot her a playful scowl. The reassurance warmed her.

More than that, it made something flutter inside of her. She was _special_ to him.

“I simply wanted to request the use of your modified Murtlap Essence recipe. Poppy has asked me for any potions that can remove the scars from that accursed quill and your formulation is the best that I can tell so far.”

The warm feeling grew, and she had to duck her head briefly to hide her blush. It was really flattering that a Master of his calibre thought so highly of her recipe. Obviously, the man would be making his own tweaks to it, but still.

“Of course. You remember it, right? I haven’t made any other changes since then.” He nodded, as she expected. She had fully expected him to try brewing it after she told him her modifications. She would have done the same, as would any potioneer worth their salt.

“I have several more phials in my stores, if Madam Pomfrey needs them urgently,” she added.

“There is no need,” Professor Snape said, shaking his head, “A few Aurors will be arriving in a few days to inspect the scarring. As such, the remaining students have consented to waiting until after the investigations to remove their scars.”

The thought didn’t sit well with her. Why should these poor children have to live with their horrid marks for even a few more days? The pensieve memories were perfectly sufficient, after all. Bloody Ministry. Her thoughts must have shown on her face, because the Professor grimaced in response. Unfortunately, there was nothing either of them could do.

After that, Heather was quickly dismissed. She walked off, wistfully missing the times when she could have hung out in the man’s office, brewing potions or just talking over tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: [lunarlooroo](https://lunarlooroo.tumblr.com/)


	85. Teacup Tempest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or an alternative title for the chapter: Storming the Ministry. Geddit? Cos' there was a storm, and- nevermind.

And so peace returned to Hogwarts. With Umbridge detained in a Ministry holding cell awaiting trial, all previous mandates and decrees instated by her were suspended by the Board. Moody was taken on as the permanent DADA teacher, to the extreme relief of the NEWT and OWL students.

Heather could finally relax and enjoy school again. Well, except that her brother _still_ wasn’t talking to her. She’d thought for sure that with Umbridge leaving, the thundercloud on his brow would disappear, but he was still as surly as ever.

Even consulting with Cedric had yielded no clues. Hadrian was quiet and withdrawn around his boyfriend as well.

If this kept up, Heather was going to corner him and force the problem out of him whether he liked it or not. And she wouldn’t care if he screamed in her face that she was a nosy, overbearing mother hen either.

~~~

“Heather!”

“Heather!”

**“HEATHER!”**

“Okay, okay, what is it?” Heather gave in, shooting them both frowns for making a ruckus in the library. She could already feel Madam Pince’s glare burning into the back of her head.

“Come on, let’s-”

“-ditch this place!”

The burning turned up a notch. The words had clearly been heard by the uptight librarian. Sighing, she excused herself from the study group and packed up her stuff.

“ _Now_ will you tell me why you dragged me away?” she asked as they tugged her along.

“Have you looked out a window in the past few hours?” Fred said.

She shook her head. “You know I haven’t.” She’d been in the library since finishing breakfast today. It was a Saturday, but the mock NEWTs were rapidly approaching and she was taking the time to revise her work.

“Well, listen!” George urged.

Confused, Heather shut her mouth and strained her ears for whatever they wanted her to hear. After a few moments, a grumble of thunder shook the castle. Realisation hit her as the three of them reached the Den. She threw the door open and ran up to the large window. Rolling dark clouds gathered in the distance, but they were travelling with great speed. Another round of thunder cracked the air, and this time she could see the flash of lightning that followed soon after.

“A storm’s approaching!” Heather exclaimed. She turned to her friends, bouncing up and down eagerly. It was the first in a long time. The Hogwarts wards were sometimes able to prevent dangerous weather, but only if they weren’t too strong. Every once in a while, a very strong storm would hit.

“It should start within the hour,” Fred said, plopping himself down on a plush couch with George.

“Have you told the others?” she asked as she joined them.

“Couldn’t find them, so we’re guessing-”

“- they already found a room to hole up in.”

She glanced out the window again. It looked as dark as night out there. It was shaping up to be a terrible storm. Well, it didn’t really matter how big it was. The animagus ritual just needed any kind of lightning storm.

Her fingers tapped on a cushion rhythmically, impatiently waiting for it to start. She couldn’t believe that this was the first storm of the school year. It had been a whole year of mild weather, but fortunately it was finally here.

“Quit it, Heather!” George reached out and stopped her hand from its restless movements.

“Yeah, you’re making us antsy too!” Fred said.

“Well, I’m really excited!” She really couldn’t help it. She stood up again and started pacing. She had to do _something_.

The twins opened their mouths to say something but were interrupted by a deafening downpour of rain. The three of them snapped their eyes to the window, seeing the storm in full blast.

“Well, there you go!” George said cheerfully.

Heather ignored his cheeky comment, running to the warded shelf and taking out their potions.

“C’mon, less dawdling more drinking!”

They quickly sat in a circle on the floor, a distance between each other in case they turned out to have large animal forms, spoke the incantation and gulped down their potions.

Immediately, Heather felt a strange tingling sensation spread outwards from her core to encompass her whole body. It was unlike other transformations, like the Polyjuice or Kitty Kandy potions, though she couldn’t put her finger on why.

The tingling continued for several more moments, which was strange because she had somehow expected to change more quickly than that. She exchanged glances with Fred and George, shrugging when they looked at her questioningly. Hadrian was the one more knowledgeable on the animagus transformation, though in hindsight she probably should have read up on it before drinking the potion too.

As the seconds ticked by, the feeling grew in intensity, as did her worry. What if she had somehow messed up the potion? What kind of horrors could happen to someone who didn’t do the whole process correctly?

“This is started to get-”

“-kind of uncomfortable.”

“Do any of you have a book on Animagi?” Heather asked nervously. Maybe now would be a good time to find out more. Better late than never, and all that.

Fred pointed over to a bookcase. “Over there I thi-” Then, he doubled over with a shout.

Heather and George jerked forward to try and catch him, but then they too followed after.

It now felt like there were tiny bowtruckles crawling up and down Heather’s skin like she was their hometree. Distantly, she felt her spine bowing into itself and her limbs contorting into odd positions. Soon, she blacked out just as she hit the floor.

~~~

Heather blinked awake feeling like she had been hit by a bludger. A bludger going at the speed of the Hogwarts Express. She chirruped in distress at the aching in her body.

…Wait. _Chirruped?_

She tried to clamber to her feet, but she couldn’t use her arms to push herself up. Mainly because she didn’t _have_ any. What she did have were golden yellow wings.

Damnit, Fred and George better not have snuck her another Canary Cream. She looked around for them, knowing they must be nearby if they had tried to prank her.

She found no ginger twins, but she did catch sight of a pair of red foxes who seemed to just be coming to consciousness. The strangeness of this confused her until her mind finally cleared up and she remembered what she had been doing before passing out.

Merlin, she sincerely hoped that she hadn’t acquired a bird brain as well as body with this Animagus transformation.

With great struggle, Heather got to her feet (tiny twigs of things) and looked down at herself. She was absolutely puny! That was _so_ unfair. She knew it was common for one’s Patronus and Animagus to have the same form, but she’d hoped she would have a more fearsome animagus that a teensy little snidget.

Well, on the bright side, she could fly.

As if on cue, her tiny wings started fluttering like they had a mind of their own, almost vibrating with the speed. Worrisomely, she started lifting off the ground. Higher and higher she went, and she had no control at all. She zipped around in random directions, which made her even more anxious since she couldn’t stop. In a fit of panic, she forced her wings to still.

Bad move.

She immediately started plunging towards the ground. And when one was this small, even the lowest height seemed impossibly far from the ground. With a high-pitched chirp, she closed her eyes and braced for impact with the cold, unforgiving… _fur?_

Heather landed on a soft and warm surface. She opened her eyes to find herself on top of one of the red foxes, whom she guessed was George. Even in animagus form they looked identical, but their magic couldn’t lie.

She trilled at them in greeting, hopping from side to side to mimic a wave. She didn’t dare to try moving her wings so soon after her little mishap. George tried to swivel his head around to look at her, but then he overbalanced and brought them both toppling to the ground. She could hear Fred let out short barks of what was clearly laughter and she tooted lowly in annoyance.

It took several more minutes for them to get used to their new bodies, during which they stumbled over their feet more often than they’d like. It was just as Heather had been gathering the courage to try flying again that a warning bells burst across her awareness. With dread, she realised that it could only have come from her monitoring spell on Hadrian.

Using all of her mental effort, she forced herself to turn back into a human. After the disorientation of growing in size several hundred times, she quickly tapped into the locator spell she had on her brother. When she couldn’t get a read on him, she froze for a second before frantically summoning the Marauder’s Map.

A hand landed on her shoulder, causing her to flinch. Looking up, she noticed that Fred and George had also returned to their human forms.

“What is it Heather?”

“Is it Hadrian?”

She jerked her head in a nod. “He’s in danger and he’s not in the castle!”

Both of redheads swore before Fred said, “Okay, wait. Calm down. Maybe he’s in the ROR. It’s not on the map.”

George snapped his fingers. “Yeah! Yeah, let’s not jump to anything, alright Heather?”

“R-right.” Heather took a calming breath. Panicking wouldn’t solve anything right now. That was, unfortunately, one of the side effects of that linking spell that told her when Hadrian was in danger. That burst of adrenaline from the warning signal had kicked her into a state of fight or flight. She needed to _think_.

“Dobby!”

With a sharp crack, the house elf appeared. “Yes, Mistress Heather? What does Mistress wish of Dobby?”

“Could you go to the Room of Requirement and check if Hadrian is there please? And hurry, Dobby!”

“Of course, Mistress!” In a blink, Dobby disappeared and then reappeared again. “Master Hadrian is not in Come-And-Go room, Mistress,” the elf said, looking distressed. “Master Hadrian is not being at Hogwarts!”

Feeling like she’d had her breath knocked out of her, she grasped Fred’s arm for support. “Thanks, Dobby,” she said weakly, watching the elf go.

“That’s not good,” George said.

“You think?” she replied waspishly. She shook her head. “Sorry.”

George grimaced and patted her shoulder. “Nah, s’alright.”

Heather gave herself a shake. “C’mon,” she yelled, running out the door.

Fred and George scrambled to follow. “What? Where are you going?”

“To find a teacher!” Or better yet, an Order member. The only time Hadrian got into so much trouble was when Voldemort was involved.

The Den was located in Ravenclaw Tower, so Professor Flitwick’s office was the nearest. She knew that all Professors had access to a floo, so even if he wasn’t in the Order, he could contact Headmaster Dumbledore.

She knocked loudly on the office doors and tried the handle without waiting to be called in. Politeness could wait until after her brother was safe. Unfortunately, the door was locked, which usually only happened when Professor Flitwick wasn’t in.

Stupid, stupid! Why hadn’t she brought the map along?

“C’mon, let’s just go find another teacher!” Fred said.

Heather nodded and turned sharply on her heel. The next closest office was Professor Sprout’s.

They were thoroughly winded by the time they got to the Hufflepuff Head’s office, having sprinted the whole way. At least they had better luck this time.

The moment Professor Sprout let them in, Heather burst into a rushed explanation and then not-so-subtly demanded to speak to the Headmaster.

“Oh dear, Headmaster Dumbledore’s currently at the Ministry for business regarding Dolores Umbridge’s trial.” Professor Sprout quickly went to firecall Professor McGonagall instead and in moments both her and Professor Snape came through the floo.

Heather had to explain everything once again, but once she was done Professor Snape cursed loudly and colourfully.

“Severus!” Professor McGonagall exclaimed, scandalised.

The man simply ignored his colleague and pinned his gaze on Heather. “Not an hour ago I met Mr Potter and his two sidekicks outside of the Headmaster’s office demanding to be let in,” Heather almost laughed hysterically at their similarity, “bearing ridiculous tales of the Dark Lord and your dogfather at a place he referred to as ‘where it’s hidden’.”

He held up a hand to forestall any comments. “That was, of course, ludicrous, as I later contacted the man at his home, interrupting him while he was merrily stuffing his snout with some no doubt coma-inducing sugary treat.”

Professors McGonagall and Sprout turned on Professor Snape and began to question him more deeply, but Heather tuned them out. It was a moment of clarity for her.

“Voldemort sent him a vision,” she stated flatly.

Everyone stopped speaking to look at her.

“Whatever you’ve been trying to guard, Voldemort wants it, and wants it badly. He sent Hadrian a fake vision to lure him there. What is it that he wants? Why does he think Hadrian can get it for him?” she scoffed, “Don’t tell me it’s another Philosopher’s Stone.”

Professor Snape’s gaze slid over her to Professor McGonagall. “Minerva, gather the old crowd. The dratted boy’s gotten into another mess again.”

Heather bristled at the snub. “I’ll be coming along.” Fred and George stepped up closer to back her up and said the same.

“Now wait a minute, you’re all still students!” Professor McGonagall began.

Ignoring the stern woman, Heather locked eyes with her Head of House. Even if they didn’t bring her along, she’d find a way to get there herself. She knew it was at the Ministry. Once she was there she’d just follow the chaos.

The man’s lips flattened, as if he’d heard her thoughts. She wouldn’t be surprised; she’d all but broadcast her intentions. “Very well,” he said, cutting off his colleague, “on your heads so be it.”

“Severus!” Professor McGonagall said for the second time.

“They are of age,” he said curtly, then stepped through the floo.

~~~

He cursed that reckless foolhardy boy for falling into the Dark Lord’s trap. He cursed the girl for trying to throw herself into the fire _again_ for her idiot brother. Most of all, he cursed his own inability to say no to those eyes.

Severus paced up and down his sitting room, bemoaning the current state of affairs. Heather was magically powerful, yes, but she was still but an untried Hogwarts student. Not to mention that her talents lay more in creating and experimenting, not duelling. The Deatheaters liked to employ nasty and underhanded tricks to defeat their opponents. Even most junior Aurors had a difficult time, used to the textbook, regulated duels they had in classrooms.

The worst of this all was that he could not show his face at the Ministry later, lest the Dark Lord brand him a traitor.

_‘Who is to say he has not already?’_

A grim thought, but one necessary to consider. What other reason was there for the Dark Lord to not have included him in this plan? Severus had heard not a hint of any attempts to attack the Ministry, and even the crazy megalomaniac was not so far gone as to do such a thing on a whim.

Severus Snape could not be at the Ministry.

He turned at headed for his potions lab.

But Howell Jenkins could.

The potions sat in the deepest corner of the uppermost shelf, right where he had left them. He took a phial and downed it. A few moments later, where Severus Snape once stood was Howell Jenkins, a brown-eyed brunet muggleborn who had joined the Order sometime in the past year.

In reality, the muggle he’d gotten these hairs from was an American who had come to London on holiday. After a long night at a pub, the man had woken up thinking he’d gotten a haircut while drunk. It had been a simple task to just shear off the man’s whole ponytail during his inebriation.

Severus had taken great pains to establish Jenkins’ identity, even going so far as to use a time turner a few times to appear together during Order meetings. No one but Albus knew that Jenkins was a false identity of Severus’.

His use of Polyjuice had only become easier since Heather had created the longer-lasting variant of it. Not that she knew he used it for such purposes. It had taken him several tries at the runic additions – he was significantly less adept at wandless magic than Heather – but he had managed.

As Heather had yet to submit her work on runic potions to the Potions Guild, no one was aware that Polyjuice could last longer than the maximum 12 hours.

He was confident he would not be revealed.

~~~

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN HADRIAN’S GONE AFTER VOLDEMORT?!” Sirius bellowed, slamming his hands on the table.

Remus put a restraining hand on the livid man’s shoulder, knowing how prone his friend was to flying off the handle. He turned to Professor McGonagall asked her to continue speaking.

With a quelling look at her errant ex-student, she went on to explain the whole story. She didn’t pause, giving Sirius no chance to cut in, and quickly detailed an action plan for the Order.

Heather drummed her fingers impatiently against the countertop. If this was how inefficient the Order, it was little wonder that Voldemort hadn’t been stopped yet. She turned her attention away from the scene, eyes scanning the room filled with Order members. Same faces were familiar, like Tonks and Professor Moody. Others were new to her.

Like an elderly man who looked to be closer in age to Headmaster Dumbledore than Professor McGonagall. Or that brunet who looked so unassuming that she had missed him at first.

She shared commiserating glances with Fred and George when someone raised _another_ argument about their role in the ambush. Her magic itched under her skin, urging her to just stand and apparate to the Ministry with the twins.

She didn’t, but only because she knew they’d be little help on their own.

A loud clap rang through the air. Heather turned towards the source to meet hazel brown eyes. The brunet she hadn’t recognised began to speak once he had the attention of the whole room.

“Calm down, everybody! Bickering will only delay us further! You-Know-Who and his Deatheaters could be attacking Potter this very second! Now, I will repeat the plan again and you will either shut up and accept or get out.”

 _That_ managed to quieten everyone’s protests.

Heather raised an eyebrow. Huh, the man wasn’t as meek as he appeared. He seemed to have some sort of standing in the Order, for all that she had never seen him before in Grimmauld Place. At any rate, she had him to thank for getting everyone in order (no pun intended).

 _Finally,_ they could go get her wayward little brother out of trouble.

~~~

Apparition was no easier on Heather than the floo, even if she was the one doing it. She stumbled upon her arrival at the given coordinates and only remained standing due to the steadying hand around her forearm.

She glanced upwards to see that brunet wizard, her partner for today’s mission. She, Fred and George had all been split up and assigned a partner from the Order. It rankled, but she knew that they just wanted to keep them safe. The Order didn’t know that they had been diligently practicing duelling techniques and offensive spells.

“Thank you, Mr…?” she said. They’d forgotten to introduce themselves to each other before, in the flurry of arranging everything according to plan.

 “Jenkins, Howell Jenkins,” the man said, giving a friendly nod.

“Heather Potter,” she replied.

The man, Jenkins, smiled, a tad awkwardly, before leading the way.

“So where are we headed?” she asked. They had landed in a nondescript hallway, thankfully empty.

Jenkins turned left at an intersection, clearly familiar with the place. “The Department of Mysteries. It’s two hallways down from here.” Before she could ask her question, he said, “We weren’t sure how far the Anti-Apparition wards would extend.”

That made sense, but…

“Are you a Legilimens?” she snarked.

Letting out a short bark of laughter, Jenkins said, “Didn’t know Hogwarts taught about that to students now.”

“I’m widely read,” she lied.

“Hopefully more than that. Books aren’t going to help in a duel.”

She shot the man a sharp glance, readying a cutting response, before sounds of a fight reached her ears. She stiffened, hearing her brother shout at someone from the room around the corner.

An arm reached out to block her from moving forwards. Jenkins jerked his head sharply, indicating they should wait for the signal. Heather pursed her lips but nodded. She needed to remember the plan.

“Don’t you ever get tired of trailing after your master like an obedient dog?” Hadrian shouted tauntingly.

Heather groaned quietly, cursing her brother for provoking his opponents. It would just give the Order less time to get into position.

“Not very sharp, that one,” Jenkins muttered, near inaudibly so he wouldn’t be overheard.

Normally, Heather would jump to her brother’s defence immediately, but she couldn’t deny that he wasn’t having his brightest moment. She settled for sighing in exasperation.

She had a mind to ground Hadrian for a month after this.

A few more moments passed of Hadrian trash talking the Deatheaters (something about a prophecy?) and while they tried their level best to refrain from attacking him. Never had Heather been so grateful that Voldemort wanted the pleasure of being the one to kill Hadrian himself. But even the Deatheaters’ fear of their master wouldn’t last long in the face of being continually insulted by a fifteen-year-old.

What was taking the other Order members so long?

Just then, Jenkins tapped her on the shoulder, showing her the medallion in his hands. It was vibrating in pulses – the signal to begin attacking. She nodded back at him, waiting for his cue.

With a single hand gesture, they both burst into action. They ran into the room, disarming and petrifying as many as they could while their opponents were surprised by the sudden break in the stalemate.

Heather was quick to rush to her brother’s side as the Deatheaters began to retaliate. She hadn’t been able to see before, hiding outside the room, but she suddenly realised that he wasn’t alone. Ron and Hermione, she’d expected to see, but Ginny, Luna and Neville too?

“Wands up, everyone!” she ordered, deflecting a Blasting Curse. “We’re going to clear a path out towards that door,” she said, pointing to the entrance she had just come through, “and then you’re going to leg it all the way until you sense the end of the Anti-Apparition wards!”

Having the others here complicated things, since she’d just expected Ron and Hermione. Now she needed to get Fred and George to help apparate everyone back to Grimmauld Place.

“Heather!” her brother gasped, shocked at her appearance.

She ignored him, herding them towards the exit as the Order did their part to engage the other Deatheaters.

“Fred, George, with me!” she shouted. Almost halfway there now. There were more Deatheaters than she had been expecting and it was difficult for her to keep track of all of them.

She hissed when a stray Cutting Curse clipped her in the side while she was distracted. Turning her body, she fired a _Bombarda_ _Maxima_ at the culprit, knocking out some of his accomplices as well.

She felt more than saw the twins join their side as they finally made it out of the room.

“Move it, guys! Apparate to Sirius’ as soon as you can!” They all nodded, following George’s lead as they ran off. Even her brother went, though reluctantly.

She and Fred took the rear, going at a slower pace as some Deatheaters followed them out. They were mercilessly knocked out as Fred put all that DA practice to work. Meanwhile, Heather worked on putting up a ward to block anyone from coming through the passage. Unfortunately, she had to use quite a lot of magic to make the shield hold up against the onslaught of Deatheaters. It wouldn’t stop someone more skilled like Lucius Malfoy for long, but it would do sufficiently until Hadrian and his friends could get out of here.

Once the route was secure, they both went to catch up with the rest. Following her tracker on Hadrian, she came upon the horrifying sight of Sirius being blasted backwards into some sort of portal-like structure. She didn’t know what it was, but it was clearly Not Good.

Panicked, she put all her strength into a Summoning Charm, pulling Sirius towards her just as his back brushed the tattered cloth hanging off the portal. It was a strain on her magic, having to support the weight of a full-grown man. There was a reason why Professor Flitwick started their summoning lessons with light things like quills.

Heather was already drained from her previous spells, so now with expending so much on a Summoning Charm, when Sirius slammed into her, they both toppled to the ground.

Bad news, because a few Deatheaters took advantage of this weakness to surround them, wands pointed menacingly.

Growling under her breath, Heather looked at the six wizards caging them in. Nearby, Bellatrix Lestrange and a few others were advancing on Hadrian, Hermione and Neville. George must’ve already side-alonged Ginny and Luna to safety.

She tried to weigh her options. She had just enough magic to disarm these goons simultaneously. But then she’d be all out. She had Fred and Sirius, though, so maybe this could work. They’d be able to fend Lestrange off.

Mind made up, Heather took a deep breath and scrounged up all her remaining magic. In one forceful push, she silently intoned, _‘Expelliarmus!’_

The blast of magic surged outwards, knocking the wizards back and sending their wands flying into her hands. True to his Auror instincts, Sirius shot to his feet and promptly had them stunned and bound before rushing to Hadrian’s aid. Dizzy with exhaustion, Heather began to slump over. Thankfully, Fred caught her before she collapsed.

“Heather! You alright?”

She shook her head to clear the dark spots that had appeared. “Fine. Help Hadrian.”

“But-”

She pushed urgently at him, hearing Lestrange’s high shriek of laughter. _“Go!”_

After some more fussing, he jumped into the battle.

She’d never felt so useless in her life, barring that time she watched her mother’s murder from inside a wardrobe. But that wasn’t something she liked the think about. Still, it was difficult for her to sit here, half-sprawled all over the floor, watching her family and friends fight off a group of bloodthirsty dark wizards.

She was also delirious with magical depletion, so most of what happened passed by in a blur. She could barely follow what was going on. Vaguely, she thought she heard mention of Voldemort and Dumbledore, though she wasn’t sure if she wasn’t just hallucinating by then. She managed to hang onto her consciousness by the skin of her teeth until it sounded like the battle was won.

It was her brother’s soothing magic that finally let her succumb to her body’s cry for rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you think? Do you like the animagus forms? The battle scenes weren't very action-y, but I tried. Sirius doesn't fall through the veil, yay!
> 
> tumblr: [lunarlooroo](https://lunarlooroo.tumblr.com/)


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